


We All Die Alone Someday

by edema_ruh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Arguing, Blood, Broken Bones, Car Accidents, Concussions, Exposed Fracture, Fights, Friendship/Love, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Head Injury, Hurt Enjolras, Hurt Grantaire, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Pining, Punctured Lungs, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9605846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edema_ruh/pseuds/edema_ruh
Summary: Even though Enjolras was well aware that the car accident hadn't been his fault, he couldn't help but to wonder, as Grantaire stared up at him with unfocused eyes and a blood covered face, if things would have happened differently had he not started the argument with the cynic while he drove.Enjolras and Grantaire are in a car accident. It's up to Enjolras to keep a badly injured Grantaire alive while help doesn't arrive.





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras didn't know what he could have possibly done to deserve being stuck with Grantaire in a car for three hours.

  
He also didn't know what was wrong with Bossuet, to decide to throw his birthday party on his parents' country house, which was several miles away from the city.

  
Initially, Enjolras was assigned to go with Combeferre and Courfeyrac on the latter's car, since the leader himself didn't know (and had never bothered to learn) how to drive. However, Bossuet was not a man known to have the best of lucks, and his car broke down on the eve of the trip, which meant the Amis would have to rethink the entire traveling schedule they (mostly Enjolras) had organized to decide who would go in whose car. Bossuet was supposed to take Joly, Musichetta, Marius and Cosette, while Bahorel was supposed to take Feuilly, Jehan, Éponine and Grantaire. But now that Bossuet's car was broken, they would have to reassign everyone. Enjolras sighed heavily, and warily suggested to Combeferre that they simply didn't attend the party.

  
Of course, deep down, Enjolras knew that was out of the question. Bossuet was more than his friend, he was basically his brother, just like all the Amis, and Enjolras would never miss his birthday party over something as petty as an unpleasant trip. However, Enjolras did feel sick if he stayed inside a car for too long, which was why he had assigned himself to go on the least crowded car in the first place. With Courfeyrac driving and Combeferre on the front, he would have the whole backseat for himself, where he would be able to freely sulk and be miserable about his revolting stomach.

  
The universe seemed to be conspiring against him, Enjolras thought. He was sure of that fact when Combeferre finished reassigning the Amis to the different cars.

  
"I know you're not going to like this", Combeferre had told him in a patient tone, the same one would use while dealing with a threatening animal. "But I found you a car in which you'll have a lot of space".

  
"Why wouldn't I like it?", Enjolras had asked, a confused frown on his face. Space was all he needed for this trip, after all. The idea of having to squeeze himself between two people on the backseat was enough to make him nauseous already, without even having to step inside a vehicle.

  
"You'll have to ride with Grantaire", Combeferre had said with an apologetic expression, and Enjolras could feel his face inevitably drop.

  
Enjolras and Grantaire had never been exactly on the best of terms with each other. Grantaire seemed to be the extreme opposite of Enjolras, whose cynism standed directly opposed to Enjolras' fervent belief. He was impolite enough to make his obnoxious opinions about Enjolras' cause very vocal, frequently during meetings and specially if he thought that he could embarrass the leader with his slurred words that made too many valid points to Enjolras' liking. Sometimes, it almost felt as if Grantaire could read Enjolras' mind, capturing his worst fears and vocalizing them in front of all the people whose opinions Enjolras cared about.

They had known each other for years now, and because of this, Grantaire was the friend with which Enjolras shared the least intimacy, if Grantaire could even be called his friend at all. Just staring at his face during meetings was enough to make Enjolras' heart race and his nostrils flared in anticipation for an argument. He could only imagine what good it would be, being stuck in a closed space with the man for hours.

  
It was not that Enjolras didn't like Grantaire - surely, he seemed to have a special talent to get under Enjolras' skin with no effort, but after some time, Enjolras realized that he didn't despise him, no. Grantaire frustrated Enjolras to no end, not only because of his constant attempts to publicly humiliate him, but also because he had so much talent. He was well taught in philosophy, socio-politics, history, linguistics, art and so many other things that Enjolras probably didn't even know about. He knew a few martial arts, danced and fenced, and that was only what Enjolras had overheard their friends talking about. Who knew what other hidden talents Grantaire possessed? And yet, he chose to waste it all away in alcohol and cynism. Grantaire could be a valuable member to their cause, if only he believed in it. If he could share of only a fraction of Enjolras' passion and idealism, he could add so much for their group, for their country. So, no. Enjolras didn't dislike Grantaire. He was merely disappointed on the cynic's insistence on wasting his talent.

  
"Is there no other way?", Enjolras basically whined at Combeferre, aware of how childish he sounded. The idea of sharing a car ride with Grantaire was extremely unappealing, but he would choose it over being sick on the backseat any day. Combeferre gave him a twisted, apologetic smile.

  
"Joly refuses to be in a car away from Bossuet and Chetta, claiming that they may need his medical expertise in case they feel sick. The same applies to Marius and Cosette. Éponine refuses to be in the same car as them, because according to her, she doesn't want to be the 'third wheel'. So I put Joly, Bossuet and Chetta with Bahorel and Éponine, God help them, and Marius and Cosette will drive with me, Courf and Feuilly. That leaves out you and Grantaire, and fortunately, Grantaire has a car of his own", Combeferre explained.

  
"Can't Grantaire take Marius and Cosette and I go with you and Feuilly?", Enjolras basically whined.

  
"No, I thought about that possibility but Grantaire's car is too small to take that many people on the road", Combeferre gave him an apologetic look.

  
"What about Jehan?", Enjolras asked hopefully. If the poet went with him on Grantaire's car, maybe the trip would be more bearable.

  
"He will have to join us later", Combeferre explained, putting away the notebook he'd been using to organize the cars for the trip. "Someone called him in to cover for a Literary teacher at his uni. Since we'll be spending four days there, he'll have to take the bus after he is done with his class".

  
"We could wait for him", Enjolras suggested hopefully, even though he knew Combeferre wouldn't like the idea before his friend even scrunched up his nose.

  
"Come on now, Enjolras", he sighed, straightening his glasses against his nose. "It's just a three-hour trip. I'm sure you can handle it".

  
"With Grantaire on the car, I wouldn't be so sure", Enjolras huffed out an annoyed breath, already accepting his defeat on a subconscious level.

  
"If you want to, I can reassign you to one of the other cars", Combeferre said, the tinge of a wicked smile appearing on his lips for the fraction of a second.

  
"If I go on a car full of people, you will all leave me behind on that camp house because no one will want to bring me back", Enjolras sighed in resignation, and Combeferre couldn't help but to chuckle, placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

  
"I really am sorry about this, my friend", he said, a sincere smile on his lips. "And I know how infuriating Grantaire can get, specially with you", he added. "But, in all those years you've known each other, when have you ever socialized with Grantaire outside meetings or birthday parties?"

  
Enjolras bit his lower lip in thought, not meeting Combeferre's eyes. The guide didn't wait for an answer.

  
"Maybe this will be good", he shrugged. "For the both of you. I know Grantaire can be a cynical pain in the ass, but I believe he can come to prove himself to be a nice guy, if you only give him the chance. And, to be very honest, it doesn't seem like you have another option at the moment", he smiled. Enjolras scowled at the apologetic look that didn't seem to leave Combeferre's face.

  
"I could simply... not go", Enjolras said, grumpy. "I could stay back and wait for Jehan".

  
Combeferre sighed, getting up from the couch.

  
"Are you really willing to miss your friend's birthday party out of something as petty as a car trip?", Combeferre raised a judging eyebrow.

  
"Jehan is going to miss it, too", Enjolras shrugged childishly.

  
"Because of his work", Combeferre retorted. "He is very upset about missing the party and only meeting us later, you know. But he needs the money".

  
Enjolras lowered his head, a sense of embarrassment and guilt blossoming inside his chest. Combeferre was right, he admited to himself with a resigned sigh. Enjolras was just being petty. Was he really willing to miss his friend's birthday just because of Grantaire? Maybe he was giving the cynic too much importance. He could probably manage to ignore Grantaire for the entirety of the trip, it shouldn't really be that hard.

  
It was either that or vomiting all over his poor friends.

  
"Fine", Enjolras sighed, not bothering to look up at Combeferre's expectant face. "I'll ride with Grantaire".

  
"Ok", Combeferre nodded, barely managing to hide the relief in his voice. "I'll text him to let him know", he announced, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

  
"Right", Enjolras merely sighed, leaning his head back against the couch.

  
"Enjolras", Combeferre called, his tone of voice much more sympathetic than it had been before. Enjolras turned his head to look up at his friend, a defeated expression on his face. "Hey. It will be all right. Grantaire is actually a cool person", he offered a tentative smile. Enjolras averted his gaze, doing his best not to roll his eyes. He knew how disrespectful Combeferre found that gesture to be.

  
"I suppose I'll have three hours to attest that", Enjolras responded simply, getting up from the couch without looking at Combeferre and making his way to his bedroom to pack his things.

  
-

  
"Look, I just want you to know that I'm just as happy as you are about this whole situation, ok", was the first thing Grantaire told Enjolras as soon as the leader stepped inside his car. Grantaire had a grumpy look on his face, something akin to betrayal. Enjolras raised an eyebrow at the cynic as he fastened his seat belt. Grantaire wasn't looking at him, eyes glued on the road ahead of them even though the car wasn't moving. His grip was tight on the steering wheel.

  
"Good morning to you, too", Enjolras said in response, placing his bag between his legs on the car's floor. He turned his eyes away after a few seconds, when Grantaire gave him no signs that he would meet his gaze.

  
"Oh, skip the pleasantries, I'm sure you'd rather eat your own tongue than be stuck in this car with me for hours", Grantaire scoffed, starting the car. Enjolras frowned.

  
"You're in a mood, today", he commented absentmindedly. Grantaire's car took off.

  
"Nah. I'm just sorry for this", he commented grumpily, clicking his tongue.

  
"For what, exactly?", Enjolras frowned. Grantaire's words had sincerly surprised him; he hadn't truly expected the cynic to be this aware of his reluctance to travel with him. Maybe he had slightly misjudged Grantaire.

  
"You know", Grantaire gestured vaguely with one hand. "Having you stuck here with me for three hours".

  
"It's ok", Enjolras said, slightly uncomfortable at the monotony of his own voice. "It's not our fault".

  
"Yeah", Grantaire chuckled humorlessly. "Let's thank Bossuet's luck for that bit".

  
"I suppose", Enjolras smiled politely.

  
An uneasy silence fell upon the car, and Enjolras bit his lower lip. With any other friend, the silence wouldn't be as tense or as awkward, but things never seemed to be easy with Grantaire, did they? Enjolras felt the sudden need to fill the silence and put an end to the nearly tangible tension inside the car, but he had no idea of what he could say. He didn't share with Grantaire the same kind of intimacy he had with his other friends, and despite knowing some random facts about the cynic - his dancing, fencing and fighting, for example -, these were merely overheard information. Enjolras had never bothered to ask anything about Grantaire, either to his friends or to the man himself.

  
Maybe this was a good time to get to know a little bit more about the cynic. Combeferre had said he was a nice guy, and Enjolras wouldn't have another opportunity to attest that affirmation so soon. Plus, it was not like he had anything better to do anyway, and maybe he had simply misjudged Grantaire for the behavior he always presented on meetings. It wasn't like they knew much about each other anyway.

  
"So, I hear you're majoring art or something like that?", Enjolras asked after a few minutes of tense silence, and immediately cursed himself for the way he phrased his question. Grantaire seemed to have a special talent to make Enjolras feel stupid - or act stupid. He allowed his eyes to close a few seconds more than necessary, but Grantaire's scoff made Enjolras turn his head.

  
"Something like that", Grantaire answered dryly. Enjolras lowered his head. Grantaire wasn't exactly making this conversation easy for him.

  
"I'm majoring poli-sci", Enjolras stated dumbly, once again cursing himself for not thinking before speaking. He was always so cautious with his words, why was he blabbering now?

  
Oh, right. He never measured his words properly when it came to Grantaire.

  
"I know that", Grantaire responded, once again dryly. Enjolras turned his head to stare at the dashboard, eyes fixed ahead. They were entering the road.

  
"Oh", was all Enjolras said in response. What else was he supposed to say? Grantaire clearly wasn't much in for conversation, and was actually being really rude. Maybe Combeferre had been wrong about him. But, now that he thought about it, Combeferre was rarely wrong about anything. Maybe Grantaire simply did not like Enjolras. That would explain why everyone else deemed him so nice, while Enjolras found him rude and obnoxious. Maybe Grantaire reserved that sort of treatment specially for Enjolras, and not for the others, because he didn't like the leader. Why else would he be acting this dismissive towards Enjolras?

  
"Look", Grantaire said with a sigh after a few more moments of awkward silence. "You don't have to do this, ok? Just… don't worry", he said, and if Enjolras knew better, he would have noticed a tinge of self-loathing in the cynic's tone.

  
"Do what?", Enjolras frowned once again.

  
"This", Grantaire gestured vaguely with one hand again. "This… whole conversation thing".

  
"Oh", was all Enjolras managed to say. Well. If Grantaire didn't want to talk to him, then Enjolras wouldn't impose himself onto the man. It was actually quite a relief, not being forced to be polite with a person who so openly hated Enjolras.

  
Another silence followed, and Enjolras no longer felt the need to fill it with forced conversation. Instead, he fished his phone out of his pocket and opened his e-mail app to check if he had received any new messages.

  
"It's just…", Grantaire continued after a while, and Enjolras stopped reading a message he had received from Lamarque to look at the driving cynic. "I know that you're probably displeased to have to travel with me, because well, why wouldn't you be, right? But since you are you, you're just trying to be polite and… and talk to me as a sort of thank you for driving you over to Bossuet's party. Well", he chuckled humorlessly. "You don't have to, so don't break a sweat".

  
"I was just attempting to make small talk", Enjolras explained blankly, even though he was well aware that he didn't need to justify himself to anyone, much less to Grantaire, who chuckled again.

  
"Since when you've made small talk with me, Apollo?", he asked curiously, and his tone indicated that he thought he had caught Enjolras redhanded.

  
"I presumed that, since we'll be stuck with each other for three hours, it would only make the trip easier if we could just be civil for once, rather than arguing with each other or staying in absolute silence", Enjolras explained with an absentminded shrug. "But if you want to keep quiet, I definitely won't judge you for that", he added after some thought. Grantaire kept chuckling, and Enjolras frowned. If he would continue to laugh at everything Enjolras said, the leader would probably grow annoyed more quickly than he had first thought. "What?", Enjolras frowned, not bothering to keep the indignation from his voice.

  
"Nothing", Grantaire cleared his throat, attempting to recompose himself. "It's just that… the thought of us, being civil to each other", he explained. "It made me laugh", he shrugged. Enjolras couldn't help but to smile slightly at the idea, too. In fact, he couldn't remember a single ocasion in which such a thing happened.

  
"I can understand that", Enjolras shrugged, still smiling. The silence that fell between them now was easier, but it still seemed somewhat fragile. Enjolras turned his eyes back to the phone on his hands, and he frowned when the screen didn't light up. His battery wasn't supposed to die so fast. Had he forgotten to charge the device before leaving?

  
Oh, how great.

  
"I… don't suppose you have a phone charger?", Enjolras asked with a grimace. Grantaire gave him an apologetic side glance, immediately turning his eyes back to the road.

  
"Sorry, no", he said. After a few seconds of silence, in which Enjolras huffed out a breath and put the phone away, Grantaire added: "Guess you must have caught some of Bossuet's bad luck".

  
"Is that so?", Enjolras responded absentmindedly, still beating himself for forgetting to charge his phone.

  
"Yeah. I mean, now you won't have anything to do to distract yourself for three hours", he replied with a tinge of amusement, as if he couldn't quite believe that Enjolras had forgotten to charge his phone.

  
"Yes", Enjolras sighed, not wanting to elaborate further so that he wouldn't force Grantaire into the conversation that he had made very clear not to be interested in.

  
"Feel free to put some music on, though", Grantaire nodded at the radio on the car's dashboard. "Though I don't think we'll agree on which station you should tune in".

  
Enjolras silently reached forwards and turned the radio on, skipping some stations until he found one that was playing smooth jazz. He leant back, his head resting against his seat and tilting his face slightly to stare out of the car's window.

  
"Who'd figure", Grantaire commented after the song ended and another started playing.

  
"Hm?", Enjolras asked, distracted and already lost in thought.

  
"Thay you'd like jazz", Grantaire explained, eyes never leaving the road.

  
"Everyone knows I like jazz", Enjolras frowned, earning a scoff from Grantaire.

  
"Well, I didn't", he shrugged. "It's actually quite surprising we agree about something, for once".

  
"I believe there's a lot about me that you don't know", Enjolras added, continuing to stare out of the window.

  
"I wonder why's that", Grantaire muttered under his breath.

  
"Pardon me?", Enjolras frowned, slightly offended, turning to stare at Grantaire's profile. After all, Grantaire had been the one to cut off his attempts at conversation. The cynic blinked rapidly, as if he hadn't meant to say those words out loud.

  
"Sorry. You weren't supposed to hear that", he replied, tapping nervously with his fingers at the steering wheel.

  
"But I did", Enjolras noted, eyes not leaving Grantaire's slightly embarrassed face.

  
"I just meant that we've never talked much, that's all", Grantaire shrugged. Enjolras's frown deepened, completely confused.

  
"Well, you're the one who said you didn't want to talk", Enjolras stated obviously.

  
"I never said that", it was Grantaire's turn to frown, sparing Enjolras a quick confused glance before turning his head back. "I just said that you didn't need to feel forced to talk to me just because I'm giving you a ride".

  
"No", Enjolras immediately retorted. "You were actually very rude and kept cutting off my attempts at conversation. I thought you didn't want to speak to me".

  
"Why on earth wouldn't I want to speak with you?", Grantaire scoffed as if the mere idea was ludicrous.

  
"I don't know", Enjolras muttered, slightly embarrassed at the path their conversation was heading to. Ah, screw it. He'd always been better off being honest than being sensible."You don't seem to like me very much", he admitted with a shrug, trying to put as much indifference into the gesture as he could.

  
Grantaire actually choked on thin air at this, losing control of the car for a terrifying moment that made Enjolras cling to his seat belt nervously. The cynic quickly placed the car back on the road properly, and Enjolras huffed out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

  
"Are you intoxicated?!", Enjolras exclaimed in a horrified tone of voice, giving Grantaire and indignant look.

  
"Sorry", Grantaire immediately apologized, clearly nervous, and he also let out a shaky breath that resembled Enjolras' very much. "I'm sorry. I'm… I'm sorry. It's just… what the fuck?"

  
"Oh God", Enjolras said, eyes wide and fingers still clutching his own seatbelt tightly. "Oh God. You're drunk. You're drunk driving".

  
"I'm not drunk", Grantaire retorted, slightly offended. "You just… I don't know. I wasn't expecting that. You legit think I don't like you?"

  
"Pull over", Enjolras said, voice shaky. "I won't stay in the car with you, drunk driving. This is so irresponsible! You could kill someone, Grantaire!"

  
"I'm not drunk!", Grantaire exclaimed, a little bit louder than necessary. "But thanks for believing that I would be irresponsible to the point of driving while intoxicated".

  
"Well, how do you explain that then?", Enjolras asked, finally letting go of his belt to gesture at the car's dashboard. He turned to look at Grantaire, who had an annoyed expression.

  
"You keep fucking distracting me while I'm driving, that's what happened", Grantaire snapped, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Enjolras blinked rapidly, realizing the truth of his words.

  
"Forgive me", Enjolras immediately said, lowering his head. "It was not my intention".

  
"Yeah, ok", Grantaire huffed, focusing on driving.

  
Enjolras sunk against his seat, embarrassed at his own irresponsibility. He really should just let Grantaire drive in peace, and therefore, fell silent once more. Grantaire begun tapping his fingers on the wheel again, biting on his lower lip. Enjolras didn't look at him.

  
Several more minutes passed, and looking at the display on the radio, Enjolras noticed that not even an hour had passed yet. Dread settled on Enjolras' stomach, as he realized that there were still two more hours to go and things were already this tense. He, for one, was completely ok with being silent. Despite of what everyone thought, Enjolras was only good with public speaking, because when it came to interpersonal relationships, he was very quiet and reserved. Staying in silence was not a problem for him, and he actually enjoyed the opportunity to have some alone time with his thoughts and ideas.

  
He tried to put some sense into the words that Grantaire had told him. He was shocked enough to lose control of the car when Enjolras suggested that the man didn't like him, and had actually corrected Enjolras about the whole not wanting to converse story, only to tell Enjolras that he was distracting him afterwards.

  
Grantaire was a mystery indeed. Did he or did he not have something against Enjolras? All the odds told him that yes, he did, after all, why else would he so constantly mock and humiliate Enjolras during meetings? Grantaire had no reasons to like Enjolras, the same way that Enjolras lacked reasons to like Grantaire.

  
Except Enjolras did like Grantaire.

  
The cynic may be infuriating and obnoxious and loud and drunk, but Enjolras grew fond, or at least accustomed to his presence over time. It was only after Grantaire skipped a meeting that Enjolras realized how the cynic's presence affected his speeches. If it had not been for Grantaire's absence on that day, Enjolras would have never realized that he made unconscious pauses, perfectly timed to adjust Grantaire's refutations or scornful comments. And it was only after realizing that that Enjolras noticed how beneficial for his arguments Grantaire's comments were. Despite all the beef that the cynic's opinions may have created in the time they knew each other, Enjolras could not deny that they had helped him strengthen his own arguments. After all, if he could defeat Grantaire in a battle of wits, he could defeat everyone.

  
It wasn't the meeting-Grantaire that scared Enjolras. It was the oustide-meetings one, for, with the exception of the overheard information he had managed to gather throughout the years, Enjolras knew very little about the man. And if there was something he hated was not knowing. Grantaire himself was a mystery to him, as much as they had seen each other almost every week through the course of years, and Enjolras was socially awkward to the point of not knowing how to behave in front of the cynic when they were alone.

  
Maybe if he didn't dislike Grantaire, then Grantaire didn't dislike him, either. It was a 50/50 chance and Enjolras wouldn't bet on it, but maybe Grantaire had been acting dismissive towards him because he felt as awkward about the whole situation as Enjolras did. Maybe he had, once again, misdjuged Grantaire. After all, he didn't reek of alcohol and looked pretty sober. Enjolras had been really fast to throw harsh, accusing words at the cynic without thinking.

  
"I'm sorry for thinking you were drunk", Enjolras said after what felt like an eternity of pensive silence. It took Grantaire some time until he finally hummed lowly.

  
"Sorry for scaring you", Grantaire responded, almost too politely in comparison to the kind of treatment the leader was used to receive from him.

  
"I'll keep my mouth shut from now on, if that's what you want", Enjolras stated, only to see what sort of reaction his words would earn. The radio was still playing muffled jazz music.

  
"Nah, it's ok", Grantaire shrugged. "I didn't actually mean it. Guess I was just awkward about staying in the car with you for this long. We never interacted much before", he explained.

  
"That's true", Enjolras sighed, glad that the conversation was heading towards a more civic path. "We've known each other for what, now? Three years?"

  
"Four", Grantaire corrected gently.

  
"Yes", Enjolras nodded his head. "That's a long time".

  
"Yeah", Grantaire chuckled. "Which is why I was so shocked you thought I didn't like you".  
Enjolras bit his lower lip.

  
"Well…", he hesitated. Should he value honesty or tact this time? Should he just be honest to Grantaire?

  
"You really think I'd attend four years of meetings I don't believe in if I didn't like you?" Grantaire raised an eyebrow, not waiting for Enjolras to continue. Enjolras frowned.

  
"Well, you certainly don't act as if you liked me", Enjolras protested before he knew better. Grantaire always seemed to rise in him the need to refute. The cynic merely laughed openly at this, a roaring sound compared to his previous chuckles and giggles. "And I honestly don't know why you attend meetings if you don't believe in the cause".

  
"Of course you don't", Grantaire huffed out. "Can we change the subject?"

  
"Do you like me?", Enjolras blurted out, immediately cursing himself for it. Grantaire sighed.

  
"Why have you taken such a sudden interest on whether I like you or not?", he asked, sounding tired. Enjolras bit his lower lip.

  
"I know we haven't always been on good terms", Enjolras explained after a few pensive seconds. "And I know we always end up yelling hurtful things at each other. But I would hate to impose my presence onto you, and I don't want to force a man who doesn't like me to give me a three-hour ride. I just wanted to make things… clearer", he shrugged.

  
"So, are you telling me that, if I happen to hate you, you're just going to hop off my car and walk the rest of the way to Bossuet's camp house?", Grantaire smirked.

  
Enjolras sighed. Couldn't Grantaire be serious for once?

  
"No", he rolled his eyes. "But I would make sure that, on the return trip, I rode with someone else".

  
"No one would dare taking you on three-hour trip inside a crowded car. Combeferre told me you have car sickness", Grantaire explained.

  
"Well, I would find a way", Enjolras huffed, annoyed that Grantaire tore his argument down so effortlessly.

  
"You legit think I hate you?", Grantaire asked curiously. Almost sadly, even though Enjolras thought that couldn't be the case. Enjolras hesitated.

  
"I'm not sure", he admitted with a shrug. "Sometimes I have my doubts".

  
"You really have no idea why I attend your meetings, do you?", Grantaire asked bittersweetly.

  
"I'm afraid I don't", Enjolras frowned. "It's always been a mystery to me, and you never bothered to provide an answer".

  
Grantaire smiled sadly, not turning to look at Enjolras.

  
"I suppose you'll figure it out someday", he said simply, more quietly. Enjolras felt confused.

  
"Can't you just tell me?", he frowned.

  
"Now, that would spoil the fun, wouldn't it?", Grantaire teased. "Let me know if you ever find out".

  
"It's not really that difficult to just tell me", Enjolras pointed out.

  
"Oh, trust me, it is", Grantaire chuckled, as if he was sharing an internal joke with himself. "Telling you why I attend to ABC meetings is probably the hardest thing I could ever do. Maybe one day I'll find the courage", he huffed. Enjolras remained as confused as before, but figured that insisting on that matter would do him no good.

  
"So", Enjolras said, palms sweating at the prospect of starting small talk with Grantaire once again. "Jazz?", he asked, nodding at the radio. Grantaire hummed.

  
"Ah, yes. I enjoy it most of the time. Not my favorite style but definitely too good to pretend I don't like it", Grantaire explained. "And you?"

  
"I like it because it is revolutionary", Enjolras explained, and that single phrase was enough to earn another roaring laugh from Grantaire. "What?", he asked, a mixture of confusion and indignation on his voice.

  
"I should have known", Grantaire chuckled. "Of course that would be the reason you like jazz".

  
"I don't follow", Enjolras frowned.

  
"Everything is Cause to you", Grantaire explained. "You can't see past the politics. Yeah, fuck the musicality of jazz, fuck Louis Armstrong's talent, all that matters is what the movement meant for history", Grantaire jested. Enjolras scowled.

  
"It's not that", he said. "I enjoy the musicality as well, but I believe the importance of jazz in history overcomes whatever mandatory taste in music I should have".

  
"Rap was also revolutionary", Grantaire commented, a daring tone in his voice. "Do you like it?"

  
"Of course", Enjolras immediately responded. Grantaire sighed.

  
"You're fucking ridiculous", he chuckled.

  
"Excuse me?", Enjolras raised an eyebrow, indignant.

  
"Oh, c'mon, I didn't mean it as an insult", Grantaire gestured vaguely, smiling.

  
"Please, do explain how 'fucking ridiculous' is not supposed to be taken as an insult, because that's far beyond my comprehension", Enjolras said.

  
"It's just…", Grantaire shook his head humorously. "I just can't imagine you listening to rap, that's all".

  
"Why not?", Enjolras frowned.

  
"I don't know", Grantaire shrugged. "You don't have the face".

  
"Now, that's just -", he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

  
"I know, I know, don't bother. It's just I always took you for a classic music kind of guy".

  
"Just because I enjoy listening to rap, I can't enjoy listening to classic? That makes no sense", Enjolras retorted, actually glad that he was winning an argument against Grantaire for once.

  
"Yeah, you're right", Grantaire gave in. "Drag my prejudiced ass across the mud if you want. But I won't believe you actually like rap until you rap something for me", he said.

  
"You want me to freestyle?", Enjolras frowned, uncomfortable. He wasn't exactly good at that, he just enjoyed listening to the music.

  
"No, I want you to sing something for me", Grantaire smiled widely, almost teasingly. "C'mon, Apollo. Spit a verse".

  
"Nothing comes to my mind", Enjolras said, awkwardly.

  
"Liar", Grantaire grinned wickedly. Enjolras sighed. "I bet you're just saying you like rap so that you look like a lover of the masses, when you're actually just another pompous rich white boy who listens to Tchaikovsky for fun", he teased.

  
Enjolras felt annoyance and anger blossom inside his chest. Why did Grantaire always feel the need to mock and tease Enjolras with his insecurities? He was tired of that. He was tired of Grantaire thinking himself better than Enjolras and making fun of him. He would win, if only for this once. One of Enjolras' biggest pet peeves was when people doubted his word.

  
"Boy toy named Troy, used to live in Detroit -", Enjolras started, but was interrupted when Grantaire choked on thin air again. Thankfully, he didn't lose control of the car this time.

  
"Ok! All right! I get it, you can rap", Grantaire exclaimed, laughing like a mad man. Enjolras frowned.

  
"I thought you wanted to listen to it", Enjolras said with confusion.

  
"Well, I wasn't expecting you to fucking sing Nicki Minaj at me, to be fair", Grantaire chuckled, recomposing himself. "I'd rather not have a heart attack while I'm driving, thank you very much".

  
"I really don't understand what you mean most of the times", Enjolras said with frustration.

  
"Sorry, I keep forgetting you're as oblivious as a puppy", Grantaire said with affection, but an angry frown appeared on Enjolras' face.

  
"Pardon me?", he said.

  
"Well, that's true, isn't it", Grantaire shrugged absentmindedly, a humorous, guiltiless look on his face.

  
"You've been offending me this whole trip", Enjolras accused blatantly.

  
"Well, from my point of view, I've been _honest_ this whole trip", Grantaire retorted.

  
"If I start 'being honest' back, you'll get offended and sulk, as you always do", Enjolras accused bitterly. The humor mostly disappeared from Grantaire's expression.

  
"I only get offended when you're... Let me see... _offensive_ ", Grantaire said, huffing out a breath. "Which is most of the time you bother speaking to me, actually".

  
"When am I offensive to you?!", Enjolras questioned, indignant.

  
"Well, let me see", Grantaire exaggeratedly scratched at his chin, as if to gesture that he was thinking. "When you call me an useless drunkard, when you kick me out of meetings, when you call me an incorrigible cynic, or an obnoxious skeptic, and I could go on, but I think you got my point".

  
"Oh, I suppose I was just  _being honest_ ", Enjolras said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

  
"Right", Grantaire scoffed with disdain, and then fell silent.

  
Minutes passed and Enjolras felt an annoying itch beneath his skin, tingling and stealing his focus from his inner thoughts. He knew that he had just made things awkward again, even if hadn't been his intention. Of course, Grantaire was being a pain in the ass, but knowing the man for four years, Enjolras should have already expected that. He was supposed to be the grown up of the relationship, for God's sake, rather than giving in to Grantaire's bickering. He turned his head to find Grantaire barely managing to hide the hurt from his eyes. Guilt settled inside Enjolras' chest.

  
"Look, I'm sorry", Enjolras begun to say, but was interrupted by the loud sound of honking that pierced the air around them. Turning his head to look behind Grantaire's car, he saw another vehicle trying to trespass them.

  
"What the fuck?", Grantaire said, completely ignoring Enjolras' apology. He was frowning at the car behind them from the rearview mirror. "Is this guy crazy? There's no way he can trespass, the road is too narrow -"

  
Grantaire was cut off by a loud bang on the back of their car and the sound of tires screeching. Both Enjolras and Grantaire were thrown forwards by the impact, but their seatbelts held them in place. The vehicle behind them had just crashed into Grantaire's car, pushing them abruptly off the road.

  
"Hold on!", was all Grantaire managed to yell as a warning, throwing a protective arm above Enjolras' chest as if to keep him in place against his seat, before the car lopsided and fell down a ravine that had been disguised by the thick trees surrounding the road. Enjolras' head banged against the glass of the window beside his passenger's seat, and he was already unconscious by the time the car finally came to an abrupt stop, at the bottom of the ravine.

  
-

  
When Enjolras returned to his senses, the first thing he noticed was a sharp sting on his chest, near the collarbone.

  
He blinked his eyes open sluggishly, and it took him a while to focus his vision and remember what had happened and where he was. After a few seconds of silently staring at the smashed dashboard in front of him, he remembered the car trip, and the accident.

  
It was as if the memory triggered something inside his brain and suddenly, Enjolras was struggling against his seatbelt, which was the only thing preventing him from falling face first against the dashboard. The material had cut into his flesh, and he could feel the blood slowly dripping down his shirt. With a trembling hand, he managed to unfasten the belt, and had to use his other hand to lean heavily against the car's door to prevent from falling off his seat.

  
Leaning back against the head rest of the tilted car, Enjolras swallowed dry and took a series of deep, calming breaths, as he mentally checked his body for further injuries. His head ached, but when he raised a hand to his throbbing temple, he didn't find any blood. Good. That was good. His ribs ached too, specially when Enjolras drew too deep breaths. Maybe he had bruised them, or even broken them, but the pain wasn't too overwhelming. Thankfully his lungs seemed to be all right, but Enjolras had no medical training.

He leant his head back and closed his eyes, sighing in relief. Only then he remembered Grantaire.

  
He turned his head, to find Grantaire slumped against the steering wheel. The cynic was too still, arms hanging uselessly beside his bent body, and there was a steady stream of blood running down his face. Enjolras' heart skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his throat.

  
"Grantaire?", he called, voice hoarse and thick. Grantaire didn't give any sign that he had heard him. "Grantaire", Enjolras repeated, louder this time. He dared to outstretch a hand and shake the cynic's shoulder, urgency clear in his tone. Grantaire remained deadly still. "This is not the time to take a nap", Enjolras scolded, but the worry inside his chest only grew. Grantaire didn't move.

  
Enjolras shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself for what he needed to do. He understood nothing about cars, but he knew that, if the accident had been as bad as he supposed, there was a risk of explosion. Panic exploded in his achy chest and he pushed the door beside him open, throwing himself out of the smashed vehicle and stumbling away from it. He ended up falling on his knees, shaky legs too weak to sustain his weight, and took another series of deep (and painful) breaths to calm himself down. However, he knew he couldn't stay there too long, because if the car was truly under the threat of an explosion, he had to take Grantaire away from it immediately. Still panting due to panic, Enjolras forced himself to stand up and limped toward the driver's side of the car, leaning heavily on the fuming, smashed vehicle. His wet, heavy breaths were the only audible sound on the shadowy forest, and the metallic crunch of the driver's door being yanked open by Enjolras was the only exception. He was forced to lean heavily against the wrecked car, trying to catch his breath, and blinked several times as he waited for the increasingly strong pain on his upper torso to subdue.

  
"Grantaire", Enjolras urged again, shaking Grantaire's shoulder. If there was one thing Enjolras had learned from Joly's medical rants, was that moving a victim of a car accident without waiting for proper aid was dangerous, since it could aggravate spine damage. However, Enjolras' alternative was leaving Grantaire slumped inside a potentially explosive car, and he would never be able to live with himself if Grantaire blew up to pieces because he was too afraid to move him.

  
Enjolras forced himself to take the pain as he passed a hand beneath each of Grantaire's armpits, pulling him out of the car. Grantaire was slightly larger than him, and therefore heavier, which meant it took a lot of Enjolras' determination and pain resilience to get half of Grantaire's body out of the car. The man didn't stir.

  
However, Enjolras couldn't move more than half of Grantaire's body before something prevented the cynic from being pulled out. Squinting his eyes, Enjolras noticed one of Grantaire's legs were still stuck on the wreckage, scrunched metal pressing down on the limb.

  
"Shit", Enjolras muttered under his breath. "Shit. What do I do?", he asked no one in particular.

  
Then it dawned on him. Joly. Joly would know what to do.

  
Enjolras fished his phone out of his pocket, but dread overcame him as he was met with the memory that the phone had ran out of battery.

  
"No", Enjolras whispered, voice hoarse. "No, no, no", he placed the phone back in his pocket, kneeling on the floor beside the car and ignoring his aching ribs as he frantically fussed with Grantaire's clothing, looking for the cynic's phone. He finally found it, and didn't even bother to celebrate before unlocking the screen. There was no signal.

  
"Oh god", Enjolras groaned, panic only growing. "Oh God, what do I do?", he asked again. "Grantaire", he called, tapping the man's blood covered face as if to rise him. "Grantaire, please wake up", he said, on the verge of tears.

  
Only then he remembered.

  
He hadn't checked Grantaire's pulse.

  
What if Grantaire was dead? What if he was trying to wake a dead man?

  
Talking his fingers to Grantaire's neck in an attempt to find a pulse frightened Enjolras more than anything, not because he didn't know how but because he was afraid of what he would find. However, it wasn't as if he had an option. Two of his shaky fingers found Grantaire's carotid, and Enjolras let out a breath he didn't even know he had been holding when he felt a slow, erratic pulse beneath his fingers.

  
"Grantaire", he urged again, trying not to be sick at the disgustingly wet sound of his palm connecting with Grantaire's bloodied cheek. "Please, please wake up. Don't be stubborn, just this once".

  
Almost miraculously, Grantaire emitted a low, pained groan.

  
"That's it", Enjolras said, allowing a bit of excitement to seep through his voice. "That's it, come back to me. Come on".

  
Grantaire blinked his eyes open sluggishly, looking around in confusion for moments that felt too long. His eyes were unfocused, and it took them longer than it should to find Enjolras right above him. He opened his mouth to speak, but frowned and shut his eyes tightly, emitting a cut-off sob that broke Enjolras' heart.

  
"I know, I know", Enjolras told him sadly, suppressing the urge to sob as well. It broke his heart to see his friend in such pain, and his own ribs were aching terribly as well. "I need to get you out of the car", he told Grantaire apologetically.

  
"What… happened?", Grantaire slurred, chest rising and falling rapidly with each pained breath. Blood was still streaming down half of his face from a cut on his forehead, probably caused by the impact of his head with the steering wheel when the car lopsided. Enjolras was no doctor, but he knew Grantaire's life would be in risk if he continued losing blood at that rate.

  
"Some jerk hit us and pushed us off the road. We rolled down a ravine", Enjolras explained, unfastening Grantaire's seatbelt as gently as he could, which made the man's body tilt slightly to the side, due to the absence of something to pine him. He whimpered.

"Joly…?", Grantaire slurred, frowning.

"Joly wasn't in the car", Enjolras explained patiently, trying to figure out how he'd get Grantaire out of the vehicle. Their time was running out.

"Oh", Grantaire responded, almost surprised, and his eyelids begung to slip close.

"No!", Enjolras shouted so loudly that Grantaire's eyes immediately shot open again, looking around in confusion. "No sleeping", Enjolras instructed, more quietly, and squeezed Grantaire's shoulder as if to ground him. "I need you to stay awake".

"Sleepy", Grantaire slurred, sounding exhausted.

"No sleeping", Enjolras repeated. "Your leg is stuck in the wreckage. Can you move it?"

Grantaire sighed and tried to move his leg slightly, before letting out a cut-off groan. His breathing caught in his throat.

"Can't", he panted, voice tight and high pitched due to the pain. "Can't. Can't. I can't", he sobbed, starting to freak out.

"Grantaire", Enjolras tried to call the panicking man's attention to no avail. "Grantaire. R", he said with vehemence, grabbing hold of one of Grantaire's hands and squeezing it to ground him.

"Please", Grantaire sobbed helplessly, and not even he seemed to know what he had just pleaded for.

"I need to get you out", Enjolras said sadly, never letting go of his hold on Grantaire's hand. "I need to, the car could explode any minute now".

"Leave me", Grantaire said, breathless. "Just… go".

"Of course not, are you mad?", Enjolras frowned. "I would never leave you, nor anyone, behind. Now try to reach for your leg and see if you can pull it free", Enjolras instructed seriously.

"Enjolras…", Grantaire moaned, but Enjolras squeezed his hand again.

"Please, just do it. For me", Enjolras begged. Grantaire swallowed dry.

With too much difficulty, Grantaire bent forwards, and Enjolras pressed a hand against his back to offer him support as the cynic reached for his stuck leg with both hands. He tentatively pulled at it, hissing loudly, and fell back heavily, nearly knocking Enjolras.

"I can't, oh my god, it's stuck, I can't", Grantaire panted in pain, eyes screwed shut tightly. His shaking hands lingered beside his knee.

"R", Enjolras said ominously, almost apologetically. "If… if you can't pull it, then I'll have to pull you out".

"Enjolras", Grantaire whimpered, voice breaking, and he desperately looked up at the leader with wide, terrified eyes that were damp from unshed tears. "Please, don't, don't do this, just leave me here, I'm stuck, I'll wait here while you call for help", he begged, clearly panicking.

"There's no signal down here", Enjolras explained, breathing with difficulty. "We'll have to climb our way back to the road", he admitted. Grantaire fell back, smiling breathlessly. The blood was still running down his face.

"There's no way… I can fucking… get out of this car, let alone… climb", he chuckled with pain. "Just go".

"What part of 'I am not leaving you behind' did you not understand?", Enjolras groaned as he got to his feet again, hands once more reaching below Grantaire's armpits. "Take a deep breath, this will probably hurt", he warned.

"Enjolras", Grantaire said, desperation evident in his voice. He weakly twitched against Enjolras' touch. "Enjolras, Enjolras, don't do this, no, Enjolras, please, listen, Enjolras, no, don't -"

Grantaire's words were cut off by the animalistic scream that was emitted from his throat, and his whole body trashed and convulsed in sheer pain as Enjolras pulled him away from the smashed car. He looked like a wounded animal attempting to flee, and his abrupt movements were doing nothing more than sending stabs of pain through Enjolras' torso. Still, he couldn't let go. He could see Grantaire's leg slipping out of the wreckage, despite of the cynic's blood curdling screams, and he was almost there, almost there, almost there -

Grantaire's leg slipped completely free and the sudden lack of a resistance made him collapse against Enjolras, who fell heavily on his back, Grantaire on the top of him. The cynic's crushing weight pined Enjolras to the floor, and the pain on his torso was so intense that his vision blackened and he lost consciousness again.

Enjolras came to a few moments later, even though it felt like an eternity. Grantaire was no longer screaming, and had fallen too silent instead. All Enjolras could hear was the cynic's ragged breaths and his own wet ones.

"Grantaire", Enjolras croaked, breathless due to the pain and to Grantaire's weight. He felt like he was suffocating under Grantaire, smashed. All he received in response was a groan. "Get off", Enjolras asked gently, but Grantaire didn't move. Enjolras mustered all his strength and pushed Grantaire away as gently as he could, without injuring the man further. Grantaire whimpered softly when his body fell on the grassy floor of the ravine.

Enjolras took a few seconds to catch his breath before turning on his side with difficulty. His lungs were burning from the lack of air and his ribs felt like they were on fire. He swallowed dry before getting on his knees beside Grantaire, and couldn't suppress the pained groan that left his own lips.

"Grantaire", Enjolras called, coughing, voice tight from pain. He panted as he checked Grantaire over, seeing how the cut on his forehead was still bleeding. "Here", Enjolras said, taking his sweater off and rolling it into a ball. He pressed the sweater against Grantaire's cut and held one of the cynic's hands against the wound, earning a hiss from the man. "Apply pressure to it".

Grantaire did as he was told, but his grasp on the balled sweater was slacker than Enjolras would have liked. He moved on, cheking Grantaire's ribs - he hissed, but didn't scream when Enjolras prodded them, which meant they were only bruised, at most - his knees, and finally, his injured leg.  
Enjolras had to suppress the wave of nausea that rose inside his throat, looking away for a few seconds before he had managed to recompose himself. Grantaire's shin was clearly broken, and Enjolras could see the bone protruding through Grantaire's skin and trousers. Enjolras had never had a stomach for exposed fractures.

"Jesus Christ", Enjolras whispered, turning his head. He ended up dry heaving, despite of his best efforts, which sent a renewed wave of bright pain across his ribs. Thankfully, he didn't vomit, but the gagging was enough to call Grantaire's attention.

"That… bad… huh?", Grantaire chocked out, voice constricted. He sounded as breathless as Enjolras felt.

Enjolras allowed himself to look at Grantaire, reading the man. He clearly had a head injury, which was probably really bad, bruised ribs and a badly broken leg. He was bleeding out fast and would probably die if he didn't get proper medical attention. The least Enjolras could do for him was to be tactful, rather than sincere, for once.

"You'll be ok", Enjolras reassured, even though the words sounded fake to his own ears. "It's just a scratch", he nodded to himself. Grantaire scoffed weakly.

"You'… a terrible liar… Pollo", he slurred and panted, voice low and rough.

"Don't think about that just now", Enjolras sighed, trying to push the pain on his ribs to the back of his mind. Grantaire needed him. "Do you think you can sit up?"

"I…", Grantaire said, but trailed off, unfocused eyes staring up at the night sky. He sounded groggy.

"Grantaire?", Enjolras called with worry.

"Stars", Grantaire muttered simply, frowning slightly as if the existence of stars didn't make sense.

"Yes", Enjolras nodded, sparing one quick glance to the sky above them. "The stars are out tonight".

"Nice", Grantaire sighed dreamly, and his eyes slipped closed again.

"What the hell did I say about sleeping?", Enjolras asked angrily, shifting so that he could kneel closer to Grantaire's face. He started applying pressure to the cut on Grantaire's forehead when the cynic's hand fell limply on the floor beside his head. Grantaire groaned at the pressure, which at least meant he was somwhat conscious.

"Not… good?", he asked, but the uncertainty on his voice sounded too sincere to Enjolras' liking.

"Not good", Enjolras nodded solemnly. "You have to stay awake".

"Enj", he groaned, face scrunching up in pain. His eyes searched his surroundings with panicked confusion. "Where are we?"

"We're off the road", Enjolras explained. "Don't you remember the accident?"

Grantaire looked disoriented for a few moments, looking around and squinting in pain.

"… Accent?", Grantaire slurred, panting.

"Accident, yes", Enjolras corrected. "We were on an accident. You got hurt, but you'll be all right", he reassured with a squeeze to the cynic's shoulder. Grantaire still looked confused.

"You?", he asked, faced searching Enjolras' face for something that his unfocused eyes couldn't find. Enjolras' heart tightened inside his chest. Grantaire was a complete bleeding mess on the floor, concussed and broken, and still, he was worried about Enjolras' state.

"I'm ok, R", Enjolras said gently, offering the confused cynic a sad smile. "Don't worry about me, ok? Focus on staying awake", he instructed.

Grantaire didn't bother saying anything else, whether because he was too tired or because he had nothing to say, Enjolras couldn't tell. His eyes, however, remained open, staring unfocused at the sky above.

"We can't stay here", Enjolras said, after he checked the phone only to find that it still had no signal. "You need medical attention immediately".

"Call Joly", Grantaire groaned, blinking heavily. This was the most eloquent phrase he had mustered ever since he woke up inside the car.

"Can't. There's no signal here", Enjolras sighed, struggling to get to his feet. The pain on his ribs seemed to increase with every breath he took, and if it continued to spike, Enjolras wasn't sure he'd be able to go up the ravine. If he hoped to get himself and Grantaire out of there and back to the road, he needed to get going. Now. "We need to go".

"Enjolras…", Grantaire trailed off, exhausted and concussed.

"Don't. Don't start that", Enjolras interrupted him sharply, and before he could complain further, he let go of the bloodied sweater he was holding against Grantaire's forehead and grabbed both of the cynic's arms, pulling him into a sitting position. Grantaire whimpered miserably as he was moved, but did his best to stay sat while Enjolras clumsily tied his sweater tightly around Grantaire's head. This was probably the world's worst makeshift bandage, but it would have to do. It was better than allowing Grantaire to bleed out. "All right, R", Enjolras said as gently as he could. "I'm gonna pull you up now, ok? Don't lean your weight on your bad leg", he instructed. Grantaire swallowed dry and nodded. Now that he was sitting up, Enjolras could see how pale the man looked. Guilt made his stomach churn.

  
Even though Enjolras was well aware that the car accident hadn't been his fault, he couldn't help but to wonder, as Grantaire stared up at him with unfocused eyes and a blood covered face, if things would have happened differently had he not started the argument with the cynic while he drove.

"Let's go", Enjolras took in a preparatory breath, and then he pulled Grantaire into a standing position with what was left of his strength. Grantaire groaned loudly, and so did Enjolras, but he managed to sustain part of Grantaire's weight as he leaned on Enjolras for support. Enjolras passed one of Grantaire's arms around his neck and held his arm to keep it in place, while holding the cynic by the waist with his other hand. Grantaire's breathing got labored, while Enjolras' got shallower, and he stared up at Grantaire, looking for reassurance, before the cynic nodded and they took their first step.

With each struggling step they took, their limbs seemed to grow heavier and more sluggish, but Enjolras knew they couldn't stop. They just couldn't. Grantaire begun to lean more and more of his weight on Enjolras, the more horizontal they got, and the leader's libs started to burn so painfully that he gasped.

"You… never called me", Grantaire slurred. "That".

Enjolras frowned, sweat from the effort of carrying Grantaire and from the pain on his upper torso already running down his face.

"What?", Enjolras asked, voice constricted from the effort he was making.

"R", Grantaire said simply, the letter breathed out, and Enjolras blinked blankly. It was true. He couldn't recall ever calling Grantaire by his nickname before.

"Good to know you are remembering things", Enjolras said in response. Their path was growing steeper, which meant it was getting more and more difficult to drag not only himself, but also Grantaire up. The fact that Grantaire seemed to be growing weaker with each step wasn't exactly helping.

"Thank you", Grantaire responded, but his words were barely understandable. His head was hanging low, chin glued to his chest.

"R", Enjolras called, hoping the use of the nickname would somehow motivate Grantaire now. "R, I can't carry you", Enjolras panted, breathless. The pain on his ribs was becoming unbearable. "Please. You have to stay awake. Just a little more. Just a bit more effort".

"Hngh", Grantaire groaned miserably.

"Come on, R", Enjolras panted, leaning a bit forwards in an attempt to curl onto himself to stop the pain. "Please. Just a bit more. You can do it. Keep the bad leg off the ground", Enjolras whimpered.

"All right, Jol'", Grantaire breathed out, doing his best to help Enjolras as they struggled their way up the ravine. Enjolras frowned. Grantaire thought he was Joly?

"It's Enjolras, R", Enjolras said, continuing to drag Grantaire up. They were moving slow, too slow go Enjolras' liking, but at least they weren't sitting still anymore.

"Don' forget about the cat's food", Grantaire slurred, completely out of it.

"What?", Enjolras frowned. Grantaire grew heavier. "Come on. Grantaire", Enjolras panicked. "If you pass out we're going to fall. Please. Stay awake", he pleaded. If he and Grantaire fell back down the ravine, he wasn't sure they'd manage to climb their way out again. It would be their doom. "Just talk to me", Enjolras panted with difficulty, trying to keep the cynic awake. "Tell me something. Anything".

"Roadtrip", Grantaire mumbled.

"Right. Roadtrip", Enjolras nodded. He vaguely wished he had stayed back and waited to go with Jehan.

Realization downed upon him that, if he had done so, Grantaire would have died. There would have been no one to pull him off the car or drag him up the hill.

"I hurt", Grantaire complained. Enjolras nodded again.

"I know, R, I know", he reassured. "Just stay strong. It's almost over. We're half way there".

"You", Grantaire muttered, voice hoarse.

"I told you, I'm ok", Enjolras reassured absentmindedly, more focused on sustaining Grantaire's weight than on what the cynic was saying.

"The meetings", Grantaire said with frustration.

"The meetings will continue to happen", Enjolras panted, voice forced and constricted. He was in so much pain. All he wanted was just to stop and take a break, rest a bit, but he knew too well what would happen if he did so.

"No", Grantaire shook his head, and then groaned, immediately regretting the movement. "Reason".

"I'm not following, R", Enjolras said with worry. Grantaire wasn't making any sense, and that made dread settle deep below Enjolras' stomach. Was he at the risk of brain damage?

"You", Grantaire sighed. "Reason to go meeting", he managed to slur. Enjolras blinked.

"I'm the reason you go to meetings?", Enjolras frowned. Grantaire sighed in relief.

"Yes", he groaned. "Wanted to tell. Before…", he trailed off. Enjolras bit his lower lip, a new wave of determination overcoming him. There was no way he could give up now. Seeing Grantaire this vulnebrable only served to remind him of how much the man still needed him.

"Don't say this", Enjolras scolded, tightening his grip on Grantaire's forearm and hip. "Whatever you want to tell me, save it for later. When you're recovered".

"No", Grantaire sobbed. "No. Can't die… without… tell".

"You won't die", Enjolras interrupted. "You hear me? You won't die. I won't let you. I don't permit it".

"Enjolras", Grantaire breathed out the name like a prayer, and then fell silent.

"Come on, R", Enjolras motivated him. "We're almost there. We're almost there. Just a little more".

But Grantaire no longer responded. He merely allowed Enjolras to carry him, taking a step or two ever so often, but not moving otherwise. Enjolras wouldn't make it. He couldn't make it. There were only a few more meters to go, but he was hurting too much, his ribs were on fire, maybe the car had blown up and set his ribs on fire, because there was no other way to explain that kind of pain. He barely felt it when he fell on his knees, and if it weren't for Grantaire's piercing scream, Enjolras would have passed out from the consuming pain.

Reopening his eyes - when had he closed them? - Enjolras saw that he was lying face first on the muddy floor of the ravine, Grantaire clutched beside his body, face twisted in pain. Upon Enjolras' fall, Grantaire's bad leg had dragged on a branch, and the cynic was crying in pain. More guilt appeared inside Enjolras' chest, alongside a sickening wave of worry, and he begun muttering a rampage of apologies as he attempted to free Grantaire without causing further damage to his leg.

"I'm sorry, R, I'm sorry, just a while longer, it's going to be over soon, just stay awake for me, please", he begged, carefully lifting Grantaire's bad leg and kicking the brench away. When he turned to look at Grantaire again, he had passed out. "No", Enjolras breathed out. "No, please, no, come on", Enjolras begged, taking two fingers to the man's carotid. Grantaire's pulse was erratic. Enjolras nervously fished the cynic's phone out of his pocket, noticing that he had regained signal. His heart almost jumped out of his chest as he nervously dialed Joly's number, and his fingers were shaking so hard and were so covered in blood that he had to retype the number three times before he finally got it right. The phone dialed, and Enjolras swallowed dry several times, holding the cellphone against his ear with one hand and using his other to hold Grantaire's unconscious form in place on the ravine's steep ground.

"Grantaire, what have we said about driving on the phone?", came Joly's voice, and Enjolras let out a wet, ragged breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Grantaire?", Joly asked, his voice more serious and worried. "Are you there? Are you ok?"

"Joly", Enjolras forced his voice out. His thoughts were sluggish and confused due to the pain, and it took his tongue longer than it should to catch up with his brain. "Accident", he panted out. "We were on an accident".

"Enjolras?", Joly asked, frantic. "Oh my god. What happened? Where are you?"

"I don't…", Enjolras looked around, trying to find anything recognizable, or that he could use as a reference point. "I don't remember", Enjolras groaned. "He pushed us off the road. The other driver. We fell off the ravine. Climbed. Can't reach the road".

"What are your injuries?", Joly asked, going on full doctor mode. "Can you see anything, any sign, that could be used as a reference?"

"My ribs are broken", Enjolras panted, breath hitching painfully on his throat. "Don't know how many. It hurts", he sobbed.

"It's ok, it's ok. Can you see anything?", Joly asked.

"There's a sign, I guess", Enjolras squinted his eyes. "With a little deer on it".

"All right. Ok", Joly said with a shaky voice. "Keep telling me what you see".

"Woods", Enjolras groaned, vision growing blurrier. "Trees. There's mud and blood", he coughed weakly.

"Blood? Whose blood?", Joly basically yelled, making Enjolras wince at the loud noise.

"R's", Enjolras sobbed and coughed again. A metallic taste invaded his mouth. "His head is hurt and his leg broke".

"His leg is broken?", Joly asked. "How badly?"

"I can see the bone", Enjolras panted.

"Shit. Oh shit. Oh my god. Listen, Enjolras. Ferre called an ambulance and they're on their way, but in order for them to find you more easily, you need to signal for them somehow".

"I can't leave R alone", Enjolras chocked out, gasping and coughing for breath. It appeared that now that he had stopped moving, his body started failing him, and the burning of his ribs didn't subdue as he had first thought it would.

"Is he conscious?", Joly asked worriedly.

"No", Enjolras moaned. Joly held his breath.

"How long?"

"I can't tell", Enjolras sobbed, frustrated. "Two minutes. Maybe more".

"Does the phone have a flashlight?", Joly asked.

"I think so", Enjolras groaned, frowning.

"Use the flashlight to check Grantaire's pupils", Joly instructed. "You said he hurt his head?"

"It was bleeding so much", Enjolras groaned in discomfort. "I tied my sweater around it because I had nothing else on me".

"You did good. You're doing great, Enjolras", Joly reassured him, but his voice was shaking and full of fear. "Check his pupils for me, yeah?"

Enjolras nodded, even though Joly couldn't see it, and turned on the phone's flashlight. He gently and carefully pulled one of Grantaire's eyelids open, illuminating it with the flashlight. It shrunk, responding normally. Enjolras coughed wetly and opened Grantaire's other eyelid. It remained the same size, dilated.

"They're uneven", Enjolras groaned, and Joly tried (without success) to hide a sob. "What does that mean?", Enjolras asked nervously, frightened by Joly's reaction. "Joly?"

"Don't worry about that", Joly sniffed. "How are you holding up? Any dizziness? Did you hit your head too?"

"I blacked out a while ago", Enjolras swallowed past the sour taste of his mouth. "But I think I didn't hit my head as hard. My ribs really hurt", he whimpered.

"I need you to go back up the road, Enjolras", Joly instructed apologetically. "I know it hurts a lot, but the sooner you get there, the sooner the pain will go away. You need to signal for the ambulance, otherwise they won't find you", Joly cried.

"I… can't leave R", Enjolras cried. Holding the phone up was getting harder with each second. He wanted to sleep the pain away.

"Can you carry him?", Joly asked.

"No", Enjolras broke. "I can't. It hurts too much and he's so heavy. I'm afraid we'll slide back down".

"Ok. It's all right, there's no problem. Just go by yourself, R will be fine", Joly instructed.

"No", Enjolras whined at the same time Grantaire's emitted a low groan and his eyes rolled and reopened. "R!", Enjolras darted forwards, tapping the cynic's cheeks. Grantaire gave him a confused, glassy look.

"Apollo?", he croaked.

"I'm here", Enjolras reassured him, phone forgotten. "I'm here with you".

"Where…?", Grantaire blinked. "Where are we?", he asked, repeating the question from minutes before.

"At the forest", Enjolras sighed, and then coughed. "We had an accident".

Grantaire frowned, looking as if he was about to cry.

"You… bleeding", Grantaire slurred in horror. Enjolras frowned, taking his fingers to his lips. They came back coated in bright red blood.

He was coughing up blood. The only conclusion Enjolras could reach was that one of his broken ribs had punctured a lung, when Grantaire fell on the top of him.

"Shit", Enjolras mumbled dizzily.

"Dying?", Grantaire sobbed in pain. There was also blood leaking from the cynic's nostrils now, pooling on his upper lip and sliding down his cheeks.

"No", Enjolras said shakingly, wiping away a bit of the blood to make Grantaire more comfortable. "Not dying. None of us", he placed the phone back on his ear, to hear a frantic Joly shouting his name over and over. "I'm here", he reassured Joly.

"Jesus fucking Christ, don't do this again!", Joly yelled, desperate, and Enjolras swallowed dry.

"I'm sorry", Enjolras groaned. "Grantaire just woke up  
He has a nosebleed now".

Joly was silent for too long.

"Joly?", Enjolras urged weakly.

"I know it hurts a lot, Enjolras", Joly said, and was that grief on his tone? "But if you don't go signal for the ambulance, Grantaire is going to die", the doctor sobbed, and Enjolras gasped in horror, sparing the semi conscious cynic a look. "His brain is probably bleeding internally and God knows what will happen to his foot's blood flow, if his leg has an exposed fracture. You're the only one who can help him now, Enjolras. Please", the young doctor had a pleading tone.

Enjolras had his eyes focused on Grantaire's miserable form, noticing that the man was starting to fall unconscious once more. His eyelids were half closed and his breathing was shallow.

"Enjolras? Are you still there?", Joly's desperate voice came.

"I'm here", Enjolras said, shaky voice merely above a whisper. "I'll climb the rest of the way", he reassured Joly.

"Don't hang up", Joly instructed frantically. "Keep talking to me or you may fall unconscious".

"Ok", Enjolras breathed out shakily. He outstretched a hand to squeeze Grantaire's shoulder and call his attention, making the disoriented cynic blink sluggishly at his general direction. "Hey, R".

"'Pollo?", Grantaire frowned in discomfort.

"It's Enjolras", Enjolras said in the gentlest tone he could muster. "Listen. I'll have to leave you here for a moment but I will be right back with help, right?"

It took Grantaire a few moments to make sense of what Enjolras had just told him, and he ended up frowning miserably and twitching on the floor as if he wanted to get closer to Enjolras.

"Wha' happened?", Grantaire slurred, tears streaming down his temples. His eyes danced across the dark woods desperately.

"We were on an accident", Enjolras explained patiently, worry consuming he and making his pain become background noise, if only for a few moments.

"We die?", Grantaire asked, voice tight with pain and emotion.

"No, we're still alive", Enjolras smiled, despite of the blood running down his own chin. "But just barely. I need to go get us help. Stay here and don't move, ok? I promise I'll be right back".

Enjolras made as if to move, but Grantaire somehow managed to grab hold of his wrist before he could muster the strength to get up.

"Please", Grantaire said, voice small and constricted. His chest rose and fell erratically with each difficult breath. "Don' wanna die alone".

"You won't die", Enjolras reassured him. "I promise. I just need to go get a doctor, they will be here soon, ok?"

"Please", Grantaire sobbed. "Joly".

"Joly is on his way too", Enjolras tried his best to smile, aware of how creepy he must have looked, with all the blood on his lips and chin. His felt like he was increasingly suffocating.

"Hurt?", Grantaire frowned, swallowing dry. "Help 'im. Too small".

"He wasn't on the car, R", Enjolras squeezed Grantaire's hand. "It was only me and you".

"Help him", Grantaire repeated, growing more agitated. "He'll be die".

"He is ok, Joly is safe ok?", Enjolras told him, and pretended he couldn't hear the muffled sound of Joly crying and sobbing from the phone that was still clutched tightly on his spare hand.

"Prom'se?", Grantaire slurred.

"I promise", Enjolras nodded. "I'll be right back, ok? Will you stay still for me?"

"Don't leave me, Enj'ras", Grantaire slurred, sounding more frightened that the leader had ever heard him. Enjolras couldn't help but to flinch as he realized that Grantaire must be really out of it, if he was begging Enjolras not to abadon him, the exact opposite of what he had asked before, when he was stuck in the car.

"I would never", Enjolras coughed wetly. "I'd never… leave you", he wheezed. "I'll be right… back to you. Stay still", he instructed, and before Grantaire could make another pleading, he turned around and started dragging himself up the remaining distance to the road. The phone was still clutched tightly on his hand, but he couldn't raise it to his ear without making his climb more difficult. Everything hurt and his chest felt like it was on fire, but there were just a few meters to go. Just a few more meters, he kept telling himself like a motivating mantra. He had to get there. He had to. Just a few more meters. Just a few more meters.

His mind was foggy and unfocused when he finally got to the edge of the road, and the asphalt beneath his hands felt dream like and too ethereal to be real. He could no longer be sure whether he was dreaming or not, and he took the phone, the only thing still anchoring him to the painful reality, to his ear.

"I got here", Enjolras wheezed. "I got… to the road".

"Good, Enjolras", came Combeferre's voice, and not Joly's, making him frown. "Joly went preparing the car for us to meet you at the hospital, so I took his place for a while", his friend explained as if reading his mind. He sounded calmed and composed, just like Combeferre always sounded during moments of crysis, but Enjolras could notice the slight tremor of his voice even through his haze of pain. "Please, turn the flashlight of the phone on. It will make it easier for the ambulance to spot you in the dark", the guide instructed. With some difficulty, Enjolras did as he was told, turning the phone up so that the light could be seen by the ambulance when it passed.

"Done", Enjolras coughed on the phone.

"Great. You're doing an amazing job, Enjolras", Combeferre reassured him. "You'll be all right, you hear me? We're coming for you and so is the ambulance. You'll be all right".

"Ferre", Enjolras swallowed past the lump in his throat, gagging once again at the disgusting metallic taste of his own blood. His mind was growing more sluggish with each passing second, probably a result of the lack of oxygen in his lungs.

"Yes, Enj?", Combeferre responded gently.

"If…", Enjolras coughed, each movement sending spikes of pain across his upper torso. He couldn't keep himself upright anymore, and fell on his face at the edge of the road. Thankfully, the phone remained beside his face, even though Enjolras didn't have the strength to glue it to his ear again, holding it slackly with one hand instead. "If I die…", he tried to continue.

"No", Combeferre interrupted him, not bothering to hide the tremble in his voice anymore. "No talking of that. You're not dying".

"Ferre", Enjolras chocked, and when did breathing become such an arduous task? No matter how hard he tried, it felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. "Just... thank you", he managed to say, voice small and barely above a whisper due to the lack of air. His vision was getting blurrier and darker around the corners, and small black and white spots were dancing in front of his eyes.

"For what?", Combeferre asked, voice trembling with emotion.

"Being… my friend", Enjolras wheezed. His breathing had become shallow and irregular, and there was blood dripping from his chin. "Tell Courf… 'm sorry", he managed to add.

"Enjolras, listen to me", Combeferre said, suspiciously sounding like he was crying. "You're not going to die, ok? Did you understand? It's not your time yet. You still have much to add to this world. You can't leave the cause behind, all right? What will we do without a leader? What will we do without our friend? What am I supposed to do without you, huh?", Combeferre gave a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Who am I going to fuss after if you die?"

There was so much Enjolras wanted to say, but his sluggish brain was unable to form the proper words, and his aching lungs were no longer capable of drawing enough air for him to speak. Enjolras finally gave in and allowed his eyes to slip shut, welcoming the sweet and painless oblivion that overcame him as his body went slack, slumped across the edge of the pavement. The last thing he heard was Combeferre's desperate pleas over the phone, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn't answer them.

"Enjolras?", Combeferre's muffled voice called. "Enjolras, are you there? Enjolras? God, please, answer. Enjolras! Are you listening to me? Please, oh my god, oh my god, no, please, Enjolras, no, just answer me, oh my god, please, don't you dare do this, Enjolras, please -"

Then there was nothing but darkness.

-

The faint sound of sirens wasn't enough to raise him from his slumber, but the stabbing sensation on his ribs definitely was. Enjolras' eyes shot open and it took him a while to acknowledge that the piercing scream that had filled the air was coming from him. A blurred face entered his field of vision, and there were hands pushing him down against the asphalt. He blinked, desperately trying to regain the focus of his vision, but there was too much pain, too much tears. He stopped struggling and allowed himself to be held down by the person on the top of him.

Enjolras had only a few moments of relief before the stabbing sensation returned, making him scream in pain again, as his brain faintly registered that the person was probably a paramedic prodding at his ribs to check if they were broken.

"Can you tell me what your name is?", the person asked, and it sounded like their voice was coming from underwater. Enjolras struggled to keep his eyes open, even though he wasn't managing to see much.

"E-Enjolras", he managed to cough, feeling something wet and warm pool on the back of his throat. Someone had turned him around so that he lied on his back, rather than on his belly, and he chocked and splutered at the blood inside his mouth. The paramedic turned him on his side, making his ribs burn like hell, and Enjolras vomited a disgusting mixture of bile and blood on the pavement beside his head. The paramedic eased him back down onto a lying position, and Enjolras took in shallow, painful breaths.

"Easy, now", the paramedic told him gently. "Do you remember what happened to you, Enjolras?"

Enjolras swallowed and twitched on the floor, Brown furrowing in pain, before he mustered the strength and the air to answer. Someone was putting something beside his outstretched body, but he didn't pay much attention to that.

"I was in… a car accident", he panted weakly. "Car… thrown on the ravine. Had to climb". Memories of an injured Grantaire flooded his mind, and he weakly tried to sit up despite of the pain. The paramedic pushed him back down. "Grantaire", Enjolras wheezed. "My friend. Hurt, too, he… was in the car… with me".

"I know, he is being rescued, don't you worry", the paramedic reassured, but Enjolras looked around in confusion.

"You have… help him", Enjolras panted, squeezing his eyes shut as a wave of pain overcame him. "His leg broken. Exposed", Enjolras tried to explain the best he could, and he knew his words weren't very eloquent or gramatically correct, but at least he was getting his message across. "Head injury. He was bad…"

"Don't worry about that just now, your friend is being rescued and we'll do our best to help him", the paramedic told him. "We will put you on this stretcher now, ok? Ready?", she told him, and before Enjolras could even think of saying anything, he was being lifted and put on the stretcher. He felt dizzy and disoriented, and everything around him moved like a blur until he realized was lying inside an ambulance. A mask was pushed against his face and something pinched at the back of his hand. The pain on his torso slowly subdued, breathing suddenly wasn't as hard with the mask urging oxygen inside him. He was beginning to doze off, relieved, when screams brought him back to consciousness.

"Enjolras!", Grantaire's voice was piercing the otherwise silent night. Enjolras frowned, reopening eyes that he didn't even know had been closed. "Enjolras!"

Enjolras lifted his head, to see a struggling Grantaire being pushed down his own stretcher by a pair of paramedics just outside his ambulance. He was trashing and tossing, his whole body flaing desperately - with the exception of his injured leg, which was worringly too still - and Enjolras was genuinely impressed at the cynic's strength, despite of all his injuries.

"Sir, please calm down -", the paramedic on the top of Grantaire was trying to hold him, while simultaneously gesturing for someone outside Enjolras' field of vision.

"I gotta find 'im", Grantaire was struggling, yelling despite of the pain and the hoarseness of his voice. "He's hurt. You gotta help him. 'M not leaving him 'ere".

"Your friend has been rescued already, Monsieur Grantaire", the paramedic told him patiently, and someone handed him a syringe.

"He said he'd be right back", Grantaire struggled, slurring the words. The paramedic injected the contents of the syringe on Grantaire's thigh  
"Can't go without him. He said he'd be right back".

"Your friend has been rescued already, sir", the paramedic repeated, pulling Grantaire's stretcher until it was placed right in front of the ambulance Enjolras was in. Enjolras, whose dizzy head was raised, blinked sluggishly at Grantaire's increasingly blurring form. Grantaire frowned.

"'Jolras?", he slurred, moving as if he wanted to outstretch a hand towards the leader, but his eyelids dropped, too heavy to remain open under the effect of the sedation, and Grantaire went slack on the stretcher, lips parted slightly. The paramedics wasted no time in pushing Grantaire into his own ambulance, and someone abruptly closed the door of Enjolras', preventing him from seeing the road outside. The ambulance started, and Enjolras allowed himself to relax on the stretcher, closing his eyes and ignoring the hands touching and prodding at his pained body. They had been rescued. Grantaire would be ok. He would be ok. He kept repeating those words mentally like a mantra, concentrating on nothing else but them until he was pulled under the peaceful, painless comfort of slumber once again.

They would be ok.

 


	2. Chapter 2

                Consciousness returned to him slowly, and waking up felt more like gently emerging out of the deepest ends of the ocean than properly rising from a slumber. He gradually became aware of a beeping sound coming from somewhere above him, the chilly air blowing softly against one of his arms and the low sound of a soft snore coming from somewhere near him. His fingers involuntarily twitched and his brow furrowed for the slightest of seconds, as he vaguely wondered where he was and what had happened, and why on _earth_ his head felt so fuzzy and light, but his eyelids felt too heavy to be opened just yet. There was definitely something slowing his brain down, maybe a drug of sorts, because it took Enjolras longer than it should have to recognize Combeferre’s voice speaking softly to him.

                “Hey, Enj. Are you with me?”, his best friend’s voice was somehow soothing and relaxing, and Enjolras sighed in relief. If Combeferre was there with him, then he didn’t have to worry – he was safe. There were fragments of memories blossoming in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t exactly remember what happened to him. He would hope it not to be another case of severe dehydration due to overworking himself again, but a flash of memory involving blood and coughing sparkled in his mind, and he shuddered. Whatever sent him to this place – a hospital, he remembered the word, he was at a hospital – was far graver than a simple negligence of his health.

                Opening his eyes felt like the most demanding thing Enjolras had ever done in his life, but Combeferre’s gentle squeeze of his hand and fingers running softly through his curls were enough of an incentive for him to at least try. Blinking his heavy eyelids open, he had to squint his eyes against the sickening brightness of the light blue room and wait for seconds that felt like an eternity until his eyes regained focus. Combeferre waited patiently by his side, and when his best friend’s face finally stopped looking like a blurred blot and started to look more like a human, Enjolras allowed a weak smile to blossom on his lips. Only then he realized that his lips were chapped and there was an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth.

                Noticing Enjolras’ frown, and taking action before his friend could try and speak, Combeferre placed a calming hand on the top of Enjolras’ chest, a sympathetic smile on his lips and emotions in his eyes that Enjolras’ sluggish brain couldn’t quite compute at the moment.

                “Don’t speak”, Combeferre advised, voice barely above a whisper as if he was avoiding to wake someone up. The thought of who he was trying not to rouse appeared in Enjolras’ brain and then dissipated as quickly as it had come. He was having trouble focusing on too many things at once, and decided to diverge his full attention to what Combeferre was currently telling him. “You gave us quite a scare, you know that?”, he chuckled, but a rational part of Enjolras’ compromised brain informed him that it sounded more like a sob, if the unshed tears pooling on Combeferre’s eyes were any indication of that. “I don’t think I have ever been this stressed in my entire life”.

                “I’m sorry”, Enjolras wanted to say, but nothing came out except for a choked whimper. More memories were starting to break through the previous blankness of his mind, and he could remember being in a car, and pain, and blood, and the urgent thought of having to climb to a road with a phone clutched in his shaky hands. He remembered talking to Combeferre, but the details of the conversation were lost to him. Before Enjolras could even think about attempting speech again, something in his throat hitched, and he broke into a coughing fit that sent stabs of pain across his upper torso. He vaguely tried to cover his ribs with his arms as if to offer himself some level of comfort, but found that his arms were too heavy. _This should hurt more_ , Enjolras idly thought, eyes screwing shut as he did his best to control the fit. He could hear the sound of Combeferre’s chair dragging across the floor, and then there was a cup of water being gently pushed into one of his hands. The oxygen mask was removed, being placed beneath his chin instead, and a straw was guided towards his dry lips, since Enjolras’ eyes were still shut and he was lying down on the mattress. He turned his head and sucked at the straw greedily, cool water instantly soothing his sore, itchy throat.

                “Easy”, Combeferre advised, softness never leaving his tone. “You don’t want to make yourself ill, now”. Enjolras gulped down a bit more of the water, before letting go of the straw and turning his head again. He felt a bit breathless now, but his throat no longer felt like sandpaper and the idea of having the mask shoved back against his face was already suffocating on its own. When Combeferre attempted to place it back, Enjolras shook his head weakly, finally opening his eyes and locking his gaze on Combeferre.

                “No”, Enjolras managed to rasp out, and good god, was that his _voice_? He sounded like he hadn’t spoken in a thousand years, and though the effort of saying that single, simple word had sent a stab of pain through the back of his throat, he did his best to remain impassive, unaware of the grimace that had taken over his face.

                “Enjolras, you can’t stay out of the oxygen”, Combeferre said apologetically, though he made no effort to place the mask back in place. If anything, he merely sighed in resignation. “Actually, I should be telling your doctor that you finally woke up properly. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for four days”, he added, eyeing Enjolras cautiously.

                Enjolras frowned at this new piece of information. What could have possibly happened to him to put him in such a bad shape? He allowed his eyes to avert from Combeferre’s frame and attempted to study the room he was in, sluggish brain taking longer than it should to make deductions that Enjolras would have done in less than a second. By the time he was done looking through the room, he came to two conclusions: one, he was in a private room, and two, that made no sense, because there was also a curtain in the middle of the same room, separating Enjolras from another patient. Was there such a thing as a shared private room? Enjolras couldn’t exactly remember.

                “Private… room”, Enjolras croaked out, hating how alien his own voice still sounded, but glad that it sounded less raspy than the first time he spoke. Something dark overtook Combeferre’s face, and all of a sudden, he was avoiding Enjolras’ eyes.

                “Yes. We should probably talk about that later”, Combeferre said, not even attempting to be subtle as it was his usual. Enjolras’ frown deepened.

                “Ferre?”, Enjolras managed to say, a little bit breathless.

                “You should rest, Enj”, his best friend said, finally looking at him again. “You’re still recovering. It was a really close call, and by no means I will allow you to exert yourself in a state like this. Go back to sleep. We can talk when you wake up”.

                “No”, Enjolras said, uncomfortably aware of how childish the denial sounded. Still, he wouldn’t give up so easily. There was something lingering at the back of his mind, something that incited anxiety and dread in his heart, even though he couldn’t tell the reason why. It felt the same way as when he left an important matter unattended, except a thousand times worse.

                “Enjolras, I mean it, for once”, Combeferre sighed, and for the first time since Enjolras woke up, he could see how absolutely exhausted his best friend looked. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed that before, since Combeferre was one of the few people who Enjolras could read as easily as an open book. “Stop being stubborn and just do what I asked”.

                Enjolras frowned, feeling immensely frustrated. Thinking about how well he knew Combeferre reminded him of someone, someone he _didn’t_ know that well but that he certainly wanted to, after… an event he couldn’t remember. The memory of this currently unknown person made tears rise to Enjolras’ eyes and something in his chest felt constricted. He was honestly quite surprised when a sob erupted from his throat, and looked up at Combeferre with astonishment. What was going on? Why was he crying?

                “Oh, for fuck’s sake”, Combeferre said, a hint of panic making his voice raise an octave, and then he unceremoniously shoved the mask against Enjolras’ face despite of the leader’s weak attempt to push his hand away. The words triggered something inside of Enjolras’ brain, and suddenly, he realized that he must be in a really bad shape, if Combeferre was swearing openly like that. Combeferre _never_ swore, unless he was in a state of complete desperation. He tried to calm himself down, but this thought only reminded him of an unfamiliar voice begging the same thing to someone who was desperately calling his name.

                Someone entered the room, but Enjolras didn’t bother to see who it was, because his sobs were only growing stronger and harder with each shaky breath he took. The oxygen mask was no longer aiding his breath and he felt like he was suffocating, tears and snot running down his face as he desperately tried to figure out what was happening to him and why he was reacting like that over a simple, inconclusive memory. Combeferre was saying something he couldn’t understand and an unknown voice replied in an equally incomprehensible way, and just as the name Enjolras had been searching his memories for finally got to the tip of his tongue, along with black thick curls and a crooked smile, something was pulled into his bloodstream and he was once again pulled under to the darkness of unconsciousness before he could properly remember who he was so desperately looking for.

-

                When he woke up again, this time more easily than before, Combeferre was still there, but so was Courfeyrac. It took Enjolras a long time of blinking sluggishly and fighting sleep to realize that his two best friends were standing at the corner of the hospital room, talking in rushed, low voices as if discussing something serious that they didn’t want Enjolras to hear. Enjolras mentally scoffed. He wouldn’t be able to hear them even if he tried to, not with this medicine they had put into him dulling his brain like that and making everything look slower and more confusing.

                He must have made some sort of sound that he hadn’t been aware of, because immediately both Combeferre and Courfeyrac turned their head abruptly to look at him, and then Courfeyrac was basically throwing himself against Enjolras, pulling him into some sort of sideway hug that was the best he could muster without upsetting his friend’s injuries.

                “Oh my god, you’re finally awake”, Courfeyrac exclaimed, tears glistening in his eyes as he broke their hug and face already scrunching up as if he was about to cry. Enjolras frowned. Wasn’t it good that he was awake? Why did Courfeyrac look so sad?

                “Easy, Courf”, Combeferre said gently, placing a hand on the top of Courfeyrac’s shoulder as if to offer some sort of comfort while the man wept silently, a sad smile on his lips as he ran his fingers through Enjolras’ hair as if his golden locks were the most precious thing he had ever seen. He almost looked like an overprotective mother tending to an injured son. “Give him space to breathe”, Combeferre advised quietly, but made no indication that he was about to move Courfeyrac.

                Enjolras blinked in confusion a few more times before relaxing his head against the pillows and closing his eyes for a few seconds. When he reopened them, Combeferre had a tentative look in his face, and a cup of water in his hand. He raised the cup with a questioning look, offering it to Enjolras, who nodded briefly. Combeferre hesitantly removed the oxygen mask and helped the straw into Enjolras’ mouth, just like he had done hours before.

                Hours? Had it truly been hours, or days, or a week? Enjolras couldn’t tell. He had completely lost track of time, and the thought frightened him. How long had he been in this hospital, anyway? He knew that he had been in some sort of accident, but all he could remember was the loud crash of a car banging into his and climbing, climbing, eternally climbing his way out of the bloodied limbo he’d been trapped in, fire licking at his ribs and the weight of an entire ocean pressing down his chest and preventing him from breathing. He almost lost his composure again at the thought, but managed to get a hold of himself before he could start crying. Instead, he gulped down the water until the whole glass was empty. Combeferre didn’t even attempt to put his oxygen mask back on, aware that it would be useless. Enjolras didn’t wait for him to put the glass away before speaking up, voice still rough.

                “What happened?”, was the question he decided to go to first. He could see Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanging looks, and patiently waited for one of them to answer, fighting the urge to cross his arms to look serious as he would usually do. Even if he wanted to, it would probably be difficult, due to the IV taped into his hand. Enjolras’ mind unconsciously turned all its attention to the object, frowning as if wondering what exactly it was doing inside his vein. Was this IV responsible for his current inability to think properly? Combeferre broke him out of his fruitless ponderations by answering to his question with another one.

                “What do you remember?”, his best friend questioned, a weary look in his face. Enjolras once again took note of the tiredness evident in Combeferre’s gaze. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, a puffy redness surrounding them beneath his glasses, and his skin looked sunk and dry against his bones. His hair was disheveled and greasy and Enjolras could bet that he hadn’t slept or eaten properly in a few days.

                “Accident”, Enjolras croaked out, staring at the wall of him as if meaning to remember. He swallowed dry afterwards as if to regain his composure. “I was… in an accident”, there was a pregnant pause in which he realized his friends were waiting for him to continue. “Don’t remember much else”, he shrugged, immediately regretting the action from the spike of pain that dully appeared on his ribs and was just as easily smothered by whatever painkiller that was still running through his body.

                Once again Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged looks, as if deciding how to give Enjolras bad news. The leader patiently waited for them to say something, but to be true with himself, his patience was already running thin. He had always hated being in a position of weakness and helplessness, which was exactly where he was, lying down in a hospital bed. But having things – apparently important things – blatantly hidden from him was unnerving, to say the least. Raising a pointed eyebrow as if to make a point, he stared at his best friends, waiting for an explanation. He was almost giving in to temptation and crossing his arms when Combeferre finally spoke up.

                “You were going to Bossuet’s birthday party”, he said, voice stern and low, almost grievous. He didn’t look at Enjolras as he spoke, head hanging low instead. “A driver tried to trespass you on the road and ended up pushing you into a ravine. The car lopsided and it was a miracle it didn’t explode. When you arrived here, you had a mild concussion, two broken ribs and one punctured lung. You went through surgery to repair your lung and has been coming in and out of consciousness for the past five days, until you woke up properly last night but had a panic attack and had to be sedated”.

                Another pregnant pause. Something about what he just heard didn’t add up, but Enjolras’ brain was still too slow and sluggish to be able to point out what was off.

                “Combeferre…”, Courfeyrac said in a whispered voice, approaching the guide as if he wanted to call his attention to something, but Combeferre merely huffed out a breath, almost in a warning manner. He pointed Courfeyrac with a glare and basically hissed:

                “Not. Now”.

                “We have to tell –“, Courfeyrac attempted, but Combeferre turned to him abruptly.

                “We talked about this. What we have to do is wait until he’s better –“

                “What’s going on?”, Enjolras asked, unable to keep the apprehension from his voice. Something deep inside his gut told him that there was something wrong, something missing. Something that his friends didn’t want to tell him, something so bad that had to be kept from him until he was healthy enough to take the blow.

                With a click, the information Combeferre had provided him with connected with newfound memories and Enjolras gasped, eyes widening in shock. He didn’t own a car. Actually, he hated car trips, and he recalled Combeferre telling him that he would have to travel with someone, someone he didn’t know very well and that always confused him. He hadn’t been alone in the car. He hadn’t been _alone in the accident_.

                Grantaire.

                “Where’s Grantaire?”, Enjolras immediately asked, looking up at his friends with fear and horror evident in his eyes. As he spoke, more memories of the accident flooded his mind – Grantaire screaming in pain as Enjolras pulled him out of the fuming car, Grantaire leaning hard on him as they tried to climb up the ravine, the urgent and desperate need to help Grantaire and keep him safe, Grantaire telling him something that Enjolras would had never figured out by himself. Parts of the accident and of what had happened were still blank to him, empty spaces in his memories that he couldn’t bring up no matter what he tried, but he remembered Grantaire. And he remembered exactly how bad Grantaire’s shape had been when he last saw him.

                When he abandoned him in the cold, empty forest despite of Grantaire’s pleas for him not to.

                “Where is Grantaire?”, Enjolras asked again, voice raising when he realized his friends weren’t answering. Combeferre pointed Courfeyrac with a reprehending look, as if silently saying ‘look at what you’ve done’, before turning to Enjolras and squeezing his hand.

                “Enjolras…” he started, using his best bedside manner tone, but Enjolras was having none of that.

                “Tell me”, he said sharply before his friend could continue, and Combeferre’s lips formed a thin line. Being drugged, injured and still a bit out of his mind, Enjolras mistook Combeferre’s tired expression for grief, and immediately assumed the worst.

                “No”, Enjolras whispered in shock, removing his hand from Combeferre’s grasp as if the touch had physically hurt him. His eyes were wide and tears were already prickling at their sides, lower lip quivering in shock and grief. “No, no, no”, was all he could whisper, fear embedded deep in his features. Above him, his heart monitor spiked in accurate synchrony with his frantic heartbeat. “No, please, no, it can’t be”, he shook his head, covering half of his face with one trembling hand that was almost too heavy for him to lift.

                He had never been close to Grantaire: that was the truth. He knew nearly nothing about the man, and calling them acquaintances would be more accurate than calling them friends. They fought, and argued, and sometimes got very close to hating each other. The words that left each of their mouths were poisonous and hurtful, but still, Grantaire’s venom strengthened Enjolras’ arguments, and Enjolras’ blows urged Grantaire to try and be a better man than he was. Enjolras had never even considered the possibility of Grantaire’s absence, despite of the frequency with which he attempted to push the man away from meetings. To think of delivering speeches without Grantaire’s blatant admiration or without his obnoxious comments, to think of attending to parties without Grantaire’s loud, cheerful presence constantly inviting Enjolras to dance with him, to think of having to stand in the Musain without a familiar pair of greyish eyes piercing into Enjolras’, to think that Grantaire was dead and lost forever was too much. That couldn’t be true. Enjolras recalled it now, the accident had been his fault. They had been arguing, and he had once again hurt Grantaire’s feelings. The last thing he had told Grantaire before they crashed was that he deserved the poor treatment Enjolras gave him, and the leader would never be able to forgive himself for that. Not only he had lost Grantaire, the acquaintance, but he had also lost Grantaire, the man who could have come to be his friend, or even something else, had Enjolras bothered to make the effort. Now that the memories of the accident became clearer in his fuzzy mind, Enjolras recalled one of the last things Grantaire had tried to tell him before Enjolras left him alone in the ravine. _You’re the reason I go to meetings_. He sobbed louder, guilt and terror filling his heart to the brim.

                But Courfeyrac’s voice pierced through Enjolras’ breakdown before it could get worse, and the leader found himself staring up with hopeful eyes when he heard the words:

                “Grantaire is alive”.

                Enjolras gaped at Courfeyrac, breath catching in his throat and making his ribs throb. Could that be…?

                “He’s alive, but just barely, Enjolras”, Courfeyrac sobbed, taking one of Enjolras’ hands into his in a way that almost looked apologetical. “God, you two were so close to… I…”, he broke down, shaking his head and allowing the tears to run freely down his face.

                “You two scared the hell out of us”, Combeferre continued in Courfeyrac’s place. “We got to the hospital at the same time the ambulance arrived, and… and…”, he trailed off, swallowing dry. There was a haunted look in his eyes. “We thought you were dead. We thought the both of you were dead”.

                Enjolras looked up at Combeferre, an apologetic look in his face. He hated to have put his friends in that position. He could only imagine how he would have felt, had he been in Combeferre’s place. Imagining life without any of his friends, Grantaire included, was a terrifying thought.

                “God, Enjolras”, Combeferre finally broke, removing his glasses and choking out a muffled sob. He enveloped Enjolras’ shoulders in a delicate, heartfelt hug that felt like he had been waiting to give him for a long time. “I’m sorry. I was just so worried. I thought I had lost you. After what you told me on the phone, I… I got here and I saw you all covered in blood and pale and it looked like you were dead. I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d lost you. I thought my l-last conversation with you would b-be over the phone, with you dying and me un-nable to do anything to help”, he sobbed. Enjolras had never seen Combeferre this distressed before in all the years they had known each other. His friend was usually the most composed and rational of the Amis, and seeing him break down like that was troubling and made Enjolras’ chest tighten.

                “It’s ok”, Enjolras whispered, holding Courfeyrac’s hand with his left one and rubbing soothing circles across Combeferre’s back with his right one. “I’m here. I’m alive. I’m sorry, Ferre”.

                “I know you are, you stupid idiot”, Combeferre muttered affectionately, voice muffled by Enjolras’ shoulder. He continued to sob freely now, Courfeyrac mimicking him. “But you really, really frightened me”, he pulled back, breaking the hug and staring down at Enjolras with red-rimmed, emotional eyes. “Never do this again”, he scolded, like an angry parent. Enjolras smiled weakly.

                “Trust me, I really don’t intend to”, he chuckled. However, the laughter immediately died out in his lips as he remembered Grantaire, and how bad he had been after the accident. “But where is R? What happened to him?”, he added with a concerned frown.

                Combeferre’s face fell back into a grimace and he sighed, only turning his eyes away from Enjolras for a couple of seconds before meeting his gaze and sustaining it seriously.

                “He’s still in a bad shape, though he’s…”, he hesitated, rubbing a nervous hand across his face. “He’s better than when he first arrived”.

                “He had a severe concussion”, Courfeyrac stepped in, arms crossed above his chest, only sparing Combeferre the quickest of glances before turning back to Enjolras, as if to tell the guide through only a look that he would tell Enjolras the truth whether he liked it or not. Combeferre sighed in resignation, stepping aside to give Courfeyrac space, and the man continued. “His brain was swelling up when he arrived. He had to undergo a small surgery to ease the pressure inside his skull, and another surgery for his leg. Both of them were successful. He came really close to losing his leg, because he had a bone infection that no one had realized until he was delusional with fever, and it will take months for the poor thing to recover. Other than that he’s… fine”, he hesitated, not looking Enjolras in the eye.

                “Well? Where is he, then?”, Enjolras frowned. The perils Courfeyrac had just narrated sounded horrible and Enjolras felt selfish for being grateful that he hadn’t been awake to witness Grantaire’s suffering. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to bear seeing the skeptic in such pain. But from what he had heart, Grantaire was no longer under the risk of losing his life, and if that was the case, then why did his friends look so grievous?

                “You shouldn’t really see him right now”, Courfeyrac admitted, voice barely above a whisper. He lowered his head, avoiding Combeferre’s intense gaze, and scratched the nape of his head nervously, sighing in the process. “I don’t think it would be good to either of you”.

                “What is that supposed to mean?”, Enjolras frowned. Hearing about the state Grantaire had been found in was worrisome, yes, but it was also a relief to know that his surgeries had been successful and that, even though it would take a while, the man would be ok. He was probably already complaining about having to be stuck in a bed, if Enjolras knew him.

                (Enjolras didn’t know him all that well, but there were little things, little details that he caught or overheard about Grantaire that allowed him to form at least a little bit of a concept of the man. And if there was something everybody knew, was that Grantaire hated hospitals).

                “Enjolras”, Combeferre sighed, arms crossed above his chest defensively. Something in the guide’s tone made Enjolras’ stomach churn, the grave tone and the furrowed brow telling Enjolras that the situation was more serious than he had first assumed from Courfeyrac’s words. “Grantaire is being kept under sedation”.

                Enjolras blinked, confused, and then frowned.

                “Because of the swelling in his brain?”, he asked, hating how unsure his own voice sounded. “I thought you said the surgery was successful”.

                “It’s not just… that”, Courfeyrac closed his eyes briefly, as if the words he had to say were causing him physical pain. He anxiously fidgeted with the edge of Enjolras’ bedsheet before continuing, staring at his own hands as he spoke. “He had to be put under because… well”, he swallowed dry.

                “Because he kept having fits of anger”, Combeferre stepped in, sounding sterner than before. Enjolras turned his head to look at him. Combeferre looked sad. “He thought you were dead, and no one could convince him otherwise. He made a total fuss, yelling for you and demanding to see you. He was burning up with fever and no one could manage to calm him down, not even Joly. Even after we miraculously managed to put you two in the same room, he singlehandedly took down three of the strongest nurses in the hospital before they finally managed to sedate him again. He almost damaged his leg irreparably because of this, and the stress was doing him no good, either. He had to be put under”.

                Enjolras simply gaped at Combeferre for several seconds, until the man decided to continue.

                “I have honestly never seen someone look so distraught in my entire life”, he shrugged, giving Enjolras an eyebrow raise. “He looked like a maniac”.

                “I never knew someone under that amount of medication could still fight like that”, Courfeyrac commented, astonishment lingering in his tone. “He headbutted a guy twice his size and almost gave himself another concussion in the process”.

                “He took down”, Enjolras said pausedly, blinking slowly as if to recover from a shock. “Three nurses”.

                “Yes”, Combeferre nodded. “One of them still has a broken nose. Poor lad”.

                “He took down three of the strongest hospital’s nurses while on heavy sedation and right after a brain and a leg surgery?”, Enjolras asked, as if saying the words aloud would help them make more sense. Combeferre sighed.

                “Well, not right after”, Courfeyrac intervened with a shrug. “It was like, two days after. When he woke up”.

                “He didn’t seem to remember much from the accident, but he did remember what had happened to you”, Combeferre added. Enjolras stared blankly at the wall ahead of him.

                _You’re the reason I go to meetings_ , Grantaire had told him when they were dragging themselves up the muddy floor of the ravine. The words came back to haunt Enjolras like a ghost, and he wondered what they meant for the first time ever since he first heard them. Then, he had been worried to get them both to safety, but now, as he lied on a hospital room, hearing all that had happened while he was unconscious, he could only begin to imagine what was the truth behind that single phrase Grantaire had felt the need to tell him as some sort of makeshift good bye.

                Grantaire was not a believer, that was obvious to Enjolras from day one, but still, he went to meetings. Because of Enjolras – he knew that now. What could Enjolras possibly have done to drag a skeptic’s attention enough for him to endure years of meetings in a group that fought for something he didn’t believe in?

                A flash of memory blossomed inside his head, Grantaire momentarily losing direction of the car when Enjolras told him he thought Grantaire didn’t like him.  He remembered how nervous and utterly shocked the man had seemed. He remembered how uncomfortable he had looked when Enjolras questioned him whether he liked him or not.

                An ugly – and absolutely impossible – idea clicked inside his mind like a lamp, and Enjolras quickly closed his eyes and shook his head as if to get rid of it. No. Grantaire didn’t – couldn’t, shouldn’t, definitely wouldn’t – have feelings for him, that was just absurd. It was probably something else. Something else that made him headbutt a nurse and fight three people while drugged, concussed and incapacitated, just because he thought Enjolras was dead. Something else that wasn’t _romantic feelings_ for Enjolras.

                Why did that thought make butterflies dance their way across Enjolras’ stomach?

                “Enj? Are you ok?”, he heard Courfeyrac asked, worry very evident in his tone. Before his ridiculous mind could come up with even more ridiculous idea, Enjolras turned his head to look at his friend and nodded, reassuring him that he was fine. He would leave thinking about feelings and butterflies and confessions to when he was healthy and not high as a kite on pain killers.

                “When can I see Grantaire?”, he swallowed dry instead, trying (and probably failing) to hide from his voice whatever it was accumulating on the bottom of his heart and making it speed up. Combeferre sighed tiredly.

                “That is definitely not a good idea –“

                “When?”, Enjolras interrupted, raising an eyebrow and resembling his usual self. Combeferre couldn’t help but to smile fondly, loving how Enjolras could still look intimidating and fierce despite of the fact he was lying down in a hospital bed, all attached to machines and monitors and with a ghastly paleness of his face.

                “You’re really not letting this go, are you?”, Combeferre asked, the slightest hint of disapproval in his tone.

                “Not until I see him”, Enjolras said, suddenly growing very serious. He had yanked Grantaire out of a destroyed car. He had kept him awake and bandaged his head and talked to him to keep him from passing out. He had dragged him halfway up a ravine while almost passing out himself, and he had abandoned him despite of the man’s pleads for him not to. He may not be close to Grantaire ( _yet_ , his mind provided, though he promptly ignored it), but he cared for the man as much as he cared for his other friends. He needed to know he was fine. He needed to attest to it with his very own eyes. The last he had seen of Grantaire had been a bleeding, concussed mess that could barely maintain consciousness for more than five minutes. He needed to know Grantaire was ok.

                Combeferre sighed, biting at his lower lip as if trying to decide whether or not this was a good idea, and then he stepped aside, pulling the curtain that was directly behind him and that was hiding the other half of the room away from view.

                There, laying in a hospital bed that was pretty much identical to Enjolras’, Grantaire lay, eyes closed with dark bruises beneath them, a thick bandage hiding his curls from view, leg held up by a cord and shin covered in pins that were probably attached to the fixator for his fracture. The sight made Enjolras’ breath catch in his throat, and had it not been for the heart monitor above Grantaire’s bed, Enjolras would have thought he was dead. Joly was right beside Grantaire, fast asleep, his head leaning on the bed beside where his hand was holding the cynic’s. He looked disheveled and exhausted, eyes puffy and red rimmed, and he would definitely have a sore neck once he woke up. Tears immediately pooled in his eyes and he did his best to blink them away, not wanting to have another break down and be sedated again.

                “Oh my god”, was all he managed to say, voice barely above a whisper. Combeferre immediately surged forwards and held one of his hands, as Courfeyrac held the other one.

                “We know it looks bad, but the doctors say he will be fine”, Courfeyrac tried to reassure him, still running his fingers across Enjolras’ hair.

                “Yes, and they will suspend sedation in a while, when his fever breaks down completely”, Combeferre said. Enjolras tried to take a deep breath while looking at Grantaire, who was lying mere feet away from his own bed, and felt something hot burning its way down his cheeks. “Oh no”, Combeferre immediately said, sitting at the edge of Enjolras’ bed and enveloping his friend in a hug the best way he could without hurting him. “Oh no, no, Enj, please don’t cry. It will be ok. I promise”. Enjolras allowed himself to bury his head against Combeferre’s shoulder, weeping silently.

                “He looks dead”, Enjolras whispered, hating how his voice sounded shaky and afraid. He felt Combeferre nod.

                “I know, but be certain that he looks worse than he actually is. He is fine, he will get better. And you should rest, so you can get better as well”.

                Enjolras’ sluggish mind took longer than it should have to come up with the question that had been bothering him ever since he first took awareness of his surroundings.

                “How…”, he hesitated. “How am I sharing a private room with him?”

                Silence fell upon the room and none of his friends dared to speak a word. A tension that hadn’t been there before Enjolras spoke up made the leader frown and he broke the hug with Combeferre to look at him. His friend was avoiding Enjolras’ eyes, and as he turned his head to look at Courfeyrac, he found that so was he.

                This type of reluctance could only mean one thing, but Enjolras couldn’t quite remember what. The only information his mind provided him with was that this definitely wasn’t good.

                “Ok”, Enjolras swallowed dry again, suddenly feeling exhausted. “What’s going on?”

                A few more tense seconds passed before Combeferre finally spoke up.

                “We really tried to keep him from intervening, Enjolras, I swear, but god, I thought you were dead, and you actually were at the risk of dying, so when the hospital contacted him we couldn’t really do anything without risking you getting worse and dying on the recovery process”, Courfeyrac started ranting, sounding too apologetic and frantic. “Plus, R didn’t have insurance and even if we all helped, we wouldn’t have been able to pay for his bill on our own”, he continued. Enjolras had a hard time keeping up with what he was saying, and by the time he finally attributed a meaning to his words, he was frowning, confused and nervous. He couldn’t understand what Courfeyrac meant by that, and Combeferre must have realized it, because he was the one to say:

                “It was your father. He paid for the private room and probably bribed someone important in order to get Grantaire to be here with you”, he explained.

                Oh.

                Oh shit.

                A whirlpool of emotions erupted in his chest, too fast and too messy for him to compute them. Anger, that his friends had allowed his corrupt father to meddle in his life. Thankfulness, that he had gotten Grantaire into the same room as Enjolras. Confusion, as to why his father would even bother doing something like that, since he so blatantly disapproved all of Enjolras’ friendships and life choices. Fear, that he would probably have to meet with his father and talk to him once he was recovered. Sorrow, that he had gotten in this situation in the first place. Betrayal was threatening to emerge from his chest, but he quickly smothered it down. Combeferre and Courfeyrac had been trying to save his and Grantaire’s life, and nothing more. And the fact that Grantaire was in a private room meant that his father was paying for the man’s treatment as well, which meant that his best friends had done this not only for Enjolras’ sake, but also for Grantaire’s.

                “Are… Are you ok?”, Courfeyrac asked hesitantly, sounding almost sorry that he had decided to tell Enjolras the truth. Enjolras continued to stare blankly ahead, blinking back the tears that continuously threatened to escape his eyes, an angry look on his face. Still, he nodded, face flushed and eyes full of sentiment.

“Yes”, he said simply, not facing Combeferre or Courfeyrac. His chapped lips formed a thin line.

“Enjolras, we’re sorry”, Combeferre stepped in, sounding as apologetic as Courfeyrac. “We know how difficult it is for you to have your father involved in your personal life, but we had no choice. If we didn’t allow him to take part into this, you and Grantaire could have died. We were only thinking of what was best –“

“I know”, Enjolras interrupted, ending up sounding snappier than he had intended. He understood his friends’ motives, _of course_ he did, and being angry at them for saving his and Grantaire’s lives was completely irrational. Still, the thought of having to face his father and _thank him_ for what he had done; thank him for using his stolen, corrupt money to help Enjolras and his friend was so unpleasant that it made him nauseous. Out of a sudden, he couldn’t get his father’s self-congratulatory smirk out of his head, and the way Enjolras knew he would brag and demand Enjolras’ unconditional gratefulness. The reason he had cut all ties with his family were precisely this – he didn’t want to owe them anything. But now he did. Not only did he owe his father his own life, but also owed him Grantaire’s. Enjolras would be forced to pretend that he was thankful, he would have to smile and actually say the words. He low-key wished he had just died down there at that ravine, and immediately regretted thinking like that. Taking another look at Grantaire’s too still form lying beside him on the bedroom made him feel even more guilty.

“Is there anything you need?”, Courfeyrac asked, sounding – and looking – like a kicked puppy. He clearly thought Enjolras blamed him and Combeferre, and Enjolras would have contradicted that thought, had he more energy to do so. He shook his head, tired.

“No, I’m fine”, he said, allowing himself to relax against the pillows that were propping him up. “I just want to go home”, he admitted, voice lower and resembling a whisper. Courfeyrac clicked his tongue sympathetically and squeezed Enjolras’ hand in a comforting way.

“It won’t be long before you’re released”, Combeferre reassured him. “Just cooperate with the doctors and have your rest; you’ll be out of here sooner than you think”.

“What about Grantaire?”, Enjolras asked, ending up sounding like a frightened child. There was a long silence before any of them bothered to reply, exchanging hesitant glances.

“He needs time”, Combeferre said after what felt like an eternity. “But eventually, he’ll be out of here, too”.

Enjolras would take what he could get.

 

-

 

“Enjolras”, someone whispered beside his ear. Enjolras frowned, not opening his eyes. “Hey, Enjolras”, the person insisted. “You awake?”

He sighed deeply, annoyed that he had been woken from his precious slumber.

“I am now”, he groaned, opening his eyes and finding Courfeyrac crouching down beside him so that his face would be at the same level as Enjolras. The boy had the decency to look guilty.

“Sorry”, he said sincerely. “It’s just that Grantaire is waking up, and I thought it’d be good for him to see you and, you know, not freak out this time”.

“ _What_?!”, Enjolras exclaimed, eyes widening.

“I also thought you’d want to see him, too”, Courfeyrac continued, but Enjolras, completely forgetting about his broken ribs, attempted to get up from the bed right away, to which Courfeyrac exclaimed: “Hey, take it easy!”

Before Courfeyrac managed to stop him, Enjolras doubled over in pain, breath catching in his throat. He had been on pain medication for so long that he forgot all about how much it hurt to move, let alone stand up from the bed. Ever since he woke up, he was only allowed off the bed a few times, and all of them had been under a doctor’s or a nurse’s surveillance. Jumping off the bed like he had intended to was stupid, and he allowed Courfeyrac to help him back into a lying position as he regained his composure.

“Jesus, are you out of your damn mind? Don’t get up”, Courfeyrac reprimanded nervously, clearly not knowing what to do in order to help his friend. “I was going to push your bed all the way to his, god, don’t tell Ferre about this”, he mumbled, actually pushing Enjolras’ wheeled bed all the way to Grantaire’s until they touched. On the other side of Grantaire’s bed, Joly stood, face pale and tired.

“Hey, Enj”, he greeted tenderly, voice quiet in comparison to Courfeyrac’s loud, squealy tone. “How are you feeling?”, he asked, clearly unaware of how Enjolras had just tried to painfully stand up on his own mere seconds ago. The fact that Joly, a trained medical man who was always paying sharp attention to the well-being of all his friends, had missed Enjolras’ thoughtless decision and grunts of pain, showed how worried he must be about Grantaire. Enjolras smiled past the throbbing in his ribs and gave Joly a reassuring nod.

“I’m better, Joly, what about you?”, he asked sincerely. Joly shook his head, shrugging silently.

“I’ll be better once I see this guy’s recovered”, Joly said, fingers absentmindedly caressing one of Grantaire’s hands. Even though it had been days, the bandage hiding Grantaire’s curls away from view was still present, but he looked a bit less pale now that his fever had broken. Joly, on the other hand, looked like he had been in an accident himself, and the stress must had taken its toll on him, since he was leaning heavily on his cane.

“When will he wake up?”, Enjolras asked curiously. Now that Courfeyrac had pushed his bed, he was close enough to Grantaire to feel the warmth radiating from his body. Enjolras reached out through the little distance still separating them and took one of Grantaire’s hands into his own, holding it gently as if to ground him back to reality and away from his slumber.

“Any moment now”, Joly provided. “They lowered his sedatives while you were sleeping”, he nodded at two nurses standing at the other side of the room, fidgeting with some charts.

“He’ll be ok”, Enjolras nodded optimistically, sounding like he was trying to reassure himself, rather than Joly.

“He will be really disoriented once he comes back, so maybe try not to go too much into details with him, ok?”, Joly advised patiently. “He will need lots of rest”.

“Of course”, Enjolras agreed, never taking his eyes off Grantaire’s sleeping form. There was something about the way the man’s chest rose and fell slowly, and the way his awry curls pointed ridiculously at every direction beneath the bandages, that made something warm and squeezing appear inside Enjolras’ chest. Suddenly, nothing else mattered to him other than Grantaire’s well-being. It was a fact that they weren’t intimate, but what happened back in that ravine changed him. He was sure that it had changed Grantaire, as well. It was the sort of shared experience that none could understand but the two of them; a kind of bond that only they would share, and no one else. What they had gone through had been horrible and frightening, but if Enjolras had one talent, that talent was to take out the best of a crappy situation. Grantaire would probably call that blind optimism, but Enjolras liked to see that as looking at the bright side of things. Maybe they could turn that horrifying, traumatic experience into something that would finally serve as a bridge between them. A bridge to give them the same connection that Enjolras seemed to have with all the other Amis, except for Grantaire. A bridge to finally make them _friends_.

“R? Are you with us?”, Joly asked hunching over the bed but not too close to Grantaire. Grantaire’s eyelids fluttered, and it seemed like he was about to wake up any moment now. Courfeyrac leaned over Enjolras’ bed curiously, trying to take a better look at the skeptic. “Talk to him; maybe it helps”, he instructed to Enjolras and Courfeyrac.

“Hey, R”, Courfeyrac said gently. “Time to wake up, lazy head”, he teased.

“It’s Joly, R”, Joly said, brushing his thumb against Grantaire’s cheek. “Come back to us”.

Grantaire’s lids fluttered more, and it looked like his eyes were rolling in their sockets beneath them. His lips were parted and he swallowed, but he remained silent and still, eyes closed.

“I’m here with you”, Enjolras whispered, unsure whether Grantaire would hear him or not. He squeezed the skeptic’s hand lightly, and as if prompted, Grantaire’s unfocused eyes parted open and he blinked sluggishly.

Joly let out a sigh of relief at that, losing balance for a moment before he regained his composure. His smile beamed on his face, and he looked like he was doing his best not to jump at Grantaire and hug him so hard that it squeezed his bones. Grantaire stared blankly at Joly for long enough to make Enjolras’ heart twist and leap inside his chest, until he finally let out a hoarse “Joly” that earned a yelp from the small man and a sigh of relief from both Enjolras and Courfeyrac.

“Yes”, Joly said enthusiastically. “Yes, I’m here, R, I’m right here”, he nodded emphatically, swallowing past the tears welling in his eyes and sniffing a bit, full of emotion. He squeezed one of Grantaire’s hands, which made the man frown.

“You have… three hands?”, he asked, voice hoarse and slurred. His eyes were still a bit unfocused and droopy, but Enjolras couldn’t really blame him. Grantaire was probably very high with painkillers, and he did have a really bad concussion, after all.

“No, R”, Joly smiled, tears running down his flushed cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

Grantaire opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even muster the words, he trailed off, staring at nowhere in particular and frowning as if in deep thought.

“Drugs?”, he asked hesitantly, still slurring. Joly giggled, clearly relieved that Grantaire wasn’t losing his mind or throwing a fit like before. Surely, he was completely out of it, but that was to be expected, given his condition.

“Yes, you’re under a lot of drugs”, Joly reassured, going back to caressing Grantaire’s face. “But you’re going to be fine. You’re fine”.

“Good?”, he frowned, still looking at Joly with an expression that resembled a lost child.

“Yeah, it’s the good stuff”, Joly rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Nice”, Grantaire breathed out in what seemed to be relief, allowing his eyes to close again and relaxing against the pillows. Enjolras relaxed as well, allowing a sigh that he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding to escape his lips and exchanging a look with Courfeyrac. Thankfully, Grantaire hadn’t freaked out this time, which meant that his fever had probably broken –

“Enjolras”, Grantaire groaned in terror, and Enjolras turned his head to find Grantaire’s eyes open wide, staring desperately at Joly and darting all over the room behind him, as if looking for something. He had grabbed Joly’s hand and was squeezing tightly, and Joly had to let go of his cane in order to use his other hand to place a calming hand against Grantaire’s shoulder.

“Calm down”, he instructed, voice losing all its previous tenderness and assuming what Combeferre liked to call his ‘doctor mode’. “Enjolras is ok. You are both in a hospital; you were in an accident. Enjolras is alive, and fine, and he’s right beside you”.

Grantaire frowned in confusion at Joly, trying to make sense of his words.

“Alive?”, he asked hesitantly, almost grievously.

“Yes, he’s alive”, Joly nodded slowly and patiently. “He’s beside you; check for yourself”, he instructed, nodding at Enjolras.

Grantaire blinked sluggishly at Joly for a few more seconds before his brain caught up with what he was being told and he finally turned his head, so very slowly, towards Enjolras. He seemed to spot Courfeyrac, who was standing up beside Enjolras’ bed, first, and his eyes lingered on the man for several moments until he finally found Enjolras, lying down on the bed directly beside him. Enjolras squeezed his hand again, smiling softly at Grantaire’s confused expression, trying his best to look as reassuring as possible. He wasn’t expecting that Grantaire’s eyes to fill with bright tears and that his face would scrunch up in a sob, and was as taken aback as Joly and Courfeyrac when that happened.

“Hey, hey R, it’s ok”, Joly soothed him, placing a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder and rubbing softly. Grantaire looked like he was trying his best to keep his sobs down, but he was failing miserably. There was a mixture of relief and fear in his eyes as he looked deeply at Enjolras face, as if trying to read it.

“Alive?”, he asked Enjolras, but unlike before, there was no hesitance in his tone, only the deep need for confirmation, almost as if he feared that he was hallucinating.

“Alive”, Enjolras nodded, smile never faltering, even though there were tears in his own eyes. Grantaire closed his eyes at this, still crying, and allowed his forehead to touch Enjolras’, a small smile of his own appearing on his lips.

“And… you’re ok?”, he asked, hesitant, voice still hoarse from the lack of use and from the tears. He still slurred his speech – a side effect from his medication –, and even if his eyes were still droopy, they remained as expressive as ever. Enjolras could see the relief and the worry in there, and something inside his chest tightened. Grantaire was a mess of bandages, cuts, bruises and pins. He had barely made it out alive. It would take him months to recover from his injuries, and still, he was worried about _Enjolras_. How could he have believed Grantaire to be a selfish, cynical man when it was so clear that he cared so much about Enjolras and their friends? He had lost his mind with worry that Joly might have been hurt in an accident that he hadn’t even been involved in. He had his leg being held together by pins and he had undergone head surgery. And yet, here he was, asking about Enjolras’ well-being. The leader couldn’t help but to feel a warm sense of affection and protectiveness blossoming inside his chest as he continued to gaze at Grantaire.

“Of course I’m ok”, Enjolras reassured, squeezing Grantaire’s hand again and never dropping it. “I should be the one asking you that question”.

“I’m so high”, was all Grantaire supplied, giving Enjolras a little giggle. Enjolras rolled his eyes, even though he chuckled himself, more in relief that Grantaire was conscious than anything else. “What’re you doin’ in my bed?”, he slurred, frowning slightly.

“I’m not in _your_ bed, I’m in _my_ bed”, Enjolras sighed. “They were pulled together”.

“Oh”, was all Grantaire said, eyelids dropping further and further.

“You should rest”, Joly suggested, clearly not meaning to interrupt their conversation but putting his worry for his friend’s health as a top priority. “You two will have plenty of time to catch up later, when you’re well-rested”.

“Mother hen”, Grantaire muttered under his breath, and Enjolras smiled slightly. He could see that Joly had heard it too, from the way the doctor’s eyes rolled slightly with affection.

“Yes, I’ll be mothering you until you’re back up on your feet”, Joly said, actually tucking Grantaire in and fidgeting with his pillows. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah”, Grantaire said dreamily, almost as if he wasn’t sure whether he actually was comfortable or not.

“Ok”, Joly said, grabbing a glass of cool water with a straw. “Drink this up, and then go back to sleep. Enjolras is not going anywhere”, he reassured, and Enjolras blushed. Grantaire drank up from the cup, with Joly’s help, until he was satisfied. By the time his bandaged head fell back on his pillows, he was already half-asleep.

“Kay”, he mumbled sleepily, closing his eyes but still not letting go of Enjolras’ hand. “Love you, Joly”, he added, barely conscious.

“Love you too”, Joly said without missing a beat and smiling tiredly at Grantaire’s slack form.

“Love you, ‘Jolras”, Grantaire added, and before Enjolras could compute what he had said, Grantaire was already asleep. Enjolras stared up at Joly, eyes wide at the words Grantaire had said, and found that Joly was staring back at him with an equally baffled expression.

But even if they didn’t know each other properly, even if there was so much Enjolras still wanted to figure out about Grantaire, there was no denying that he loved him, right? They had known each other for four whole years. Of course, they barely even talked except for heated debates and screaming sessions they took against each other, but if Enjolras truly didn’t like Grantaire’s presence, he would have kicked him out of ABC meetings a long time ago. After everything they went through together, Enjolras couldn’t deny that he loved Grantaire. Perhaps not romantically, perhaps not even like he loved Combeferre or Courfeyrac, but he loved him. He loved him like a friend, like a person, like a countryman. He loved Grantaire like he loved the people who were neglected by the government, like the people whose lives Enjolras fought so hard to improve. He loved Grantaire like the only person who ever dared to stand up against him, and the only person who Enjolras knew would always, _always_ tell him the truth, no matter what.

“I love you too”, Enjolras said back, even though he knew Grantaire wouldn’t be able to hear him. He didn’t bother looking at Joly or at Courfeyrac, already knowing the look that would be lingering on their faces. Instead, he closed his own eyes, ready to rest so that he could heal and get back on shape as soon as possible. After all, Grantaire would need all the help and support he could get while he recovered, and Enjolras wanted to be there for him, just like he had been there when they were stuck down in that ravine, fighting for their lives.

Maybe one day, when he unsolved the mystery that Grantaire was to him, he could come to love him more than platonically. Enjolras didn’t think that would take too long, given the way that his heart was already fluttering at the thought, and the constant presence of a familiar smirk and dark curls in his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first published this story, I wasn't planning on writing a sequel. It was just an angsty one-shot that had been buzzing in my mind for a while and that I felt like writing when I had nothing better to do. I've been working on other projects more recently, but as it always happens, I was faced with my old friend writer's block and couldn't get anything done. Since some people commented asking for a follow-up on this story, I though: why not? I should let you know that I am aware that this is pretty disappointing, though, but I think it would have felt too unnatural for Enjolras to simply fall in love with Grantaire because they almost died together. So yeah, I hope this small follow-up gives you guys some sense of closure, and I hope it's not too disappointing.  
> God, how I miss these angsty one-shot/two-shots stuff. Maybe I'll go back to it soon, who knows. Writing long fics is Exhausting.  
> Anyways, hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you all for all the supportive comments on the first chapter, I read and re-read and re-re-read every single one of them and they all made me as happy as I could get! You guys rule. See you on the next fic!

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a silly one shot I decided to write out of boredom and as a way to ease my writer's block. Yes, I am very aware that this isn't in any way the best of my works, and that it's probably just a lame excuse for an angsty story. However, it's always nice to go back to writing some good ol' angsty one shot.  
> Thank you for reading, please leave kudos if you found this story bearable to read for some reason


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